Into the Mirror
by Red43Collaborative
Summary: Tom Riddle tries a few mirror spells from a book he found in the restricted section with some very unexpected results. Tom/Hermione rated M for a reason...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: this document is a collaborative effort of Mini Chipmunk Mionee and RedShadow43. It was previously on the site in two files, "In the Mirror" and "Through the Looking Glass" but we figured we'd better fix that problem. So, here for your reading pleasure, is "Into the Mirror"**

**thanks, and Auralee and Robin look forward to all your adulation and rave reviews...(grins). J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter…**

CHAPTER ONE: Revelations

Tom Riddle was in the library at Hogwarts just after the Halloween party in search of a good book to read. Of course, he always found his most promising tomes in the restricted section, and as the librarian was nowhere to be seen, it was a small matter for the Slytherin student to enter the area unhindered.

He pushed a stray lock of dark hair up out of his eyes in annoyance. He hated it when his hair was not perfectly neat, and it was always the same piece that seemed to fall every time. If hair could be hexed into submission, this one would have caught his wrath long ago.

High up on a middle shelf in the third row of books, Tom spotted a book with a most unusual spine. It was almost reflective, he noticed as he flicked his wand gracefully in its direction. The book slid out of the shelf and landed neatly in his hand, and he read the title curiously.

"Mirror Spells," he mumbled aloud, and his interest was instantaneous.

He slipped the book neatly into his bag with all his others, of which there were at least thirty at present in their shrunken state, and went straight back to his dorm.

Since Tom was the Head Boy this year, he had a room all to himself, and shared his dorm with only one other person, the Head Girl.

Augusta Pruett was from Gryffindor house, and she was madly in love with him. Of course, so was practically every other girl in the whole bloody school, but he had not found a single one that truly caught his attention.

Tom was a very complex young man, and a very powerful wizard, and he knew that he did not need a weak or weepy sort of girl. What truly attracted him was knowledge and power, and any woman he wanted would have to have both. So far the closest thing he'd gotten to excitement over a girl had been when he'd been flirting with Minerva last year, but of course she had graduated and he had felt little remorse over her departure.

Tom laid casually down on his bed and set an orb of light in the air nearby so he could read. There were quite a few spells in the mirror book he wanted to try, including a duplication spell to make a copy of oneself, a spell to spy on people through any mirror they were near, and most interestingly, a spell to connect a network of mirrors for the purposes of communication. Since he intended to overthrow the Ministry and take over the Wizarding World himself, that could come in handy for contacting his followers once he had it properly in place.

The least complicated spell, as far as he could tell, was the one to spy on people through their mirror, so he sat up straighter and flourished his wand at the full length mirror at the foot of his bed.

"Prospicus specustos!" he said in a loud, eloquent voice, and watched as the mirror began to shimmer. The room he wished to spy on had not been mentioned, so this would, of course, be a random room instead.

Viewing it for a moment, he realized that except for the colours, this room looked very much like his own. But while his colours were Slytherin green and silver, this room appeared to belong to a Gryffindor.

'_But which Gryffindor could it possibly belong to?'_ He wondered in confusion. Augusta was a Gryffindor, of course, but he knew for a fact this was not her room; she did not keep books on her dresser, and the outfit laid out on the bed looked like nothing she would ever wear.

He stepped closer to the mirror to get a better look at the books, reading each of their spines in turn. As he was about to read the last one, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen came out of her bathroom and headed straight over to the dresser to grab it. Bringing it with her, the girl tossed a head full of wet-darkened hair that truly reminded him of a lion's mane, and put the book down onto the bed. My, she was truly the epitome of dirty blonde, and he watched avidly as she began to pull off her robe.

Tom thought for a moment that she had looked right at him, and he immediately cast a disillusionment spell over himself to hide, just in case. He sat down on the edge of his bed and just stared as the girl suddenly looked up at the mirror again with a confused look on her face. She tilted her head to the side as she set the robe back onto her shoulders.

'_Damn!'_ Tom thought; he'd been hoping to see a bit more of that beautiful body.

When she turned back to her mirror, he realized with a delighted start of surprise that he had gotten his wish after all. The robe fell slightly open, revealing a perfectly flat stomach and a little bit of thigh. Delectable.

She retrieved her wand from her desk and muttered a spell Tom had never heard of at the mirror. For a moment everything went fuzzy, and ripples rose up and then melted into the glass before the whole room came back into focus again, looking almost the same except for a slight blur.

His little beauty stared contentedly into her own mirror, and he watched avidly as she stepped up to it and began to model in front of it, looking herself over critically. She smiled into the mirror and placed a hand to the side of her head, bunching her hair up into her fist and slightly pouffing it. Then she did the same to the other side, and sighed contentedly.

Tom stood and approached the mirror cautiously, and her big, brown doe eyes made him gasp. They were intriguing—he could tell just by looking at them how very intelligent and confident she was. He was just remarking upon how soft and silky her darkish curls looked, and wanting desperately to touch, when he could have sworn she looked right into his eyes.

He froze on the spot, his breathing heavy, as the girl tilted her head slightly, grinned, and stuck her tongue out between her teeth once before she turned and jumped onto her bed. She flopped so that she was on her stomach, chin in her hands, with one elbow to either side of the book she had placed there earlier.

He was finally able to read the title: _Hogwarts: A History – New Edition 1998_.

Tom tilted his head. 1998?

Of course—that was why he did not know her, she was not even in the same time. His spell obviously had contacted a future Head Girl of Hogwarts instead of the one in his own time.

This turn of events could do nothing but please him, as this particular girl was much more preferable than the one he'd been saddled with in his own time. Bossy, uninventive Augusta was hardly worth notice. She hadn't even passed her charms O.W.L.s, of all things!

Tom realized with a start of surprise that standing there watching the girl was doing interesting things to his anatomy. The tightness in his pants was unmistakable in nature, and one hand absently came down to stroke the long shaft of his erection through the fabric.

Her robe had fallen slightly open at the top, revealing cleavage that almost made him weak in the knees. With a deft movement he undid the buckle to his belt and unzipped his fly, stroking his boxers instead. Maddeningly, it still wasn't enough. He removed his pants on the way over to his bed, and then lay down upon it with a little groan.

His hand was inside his boxers now, and he imagined the beautiful girl's sensuous lips upon his eager member. This made it harder than ever, and he knew he would get no rest tonight if he didn't do something about it.

He glanced at the mirror and saw that his angel had rearranged herself on her bed, lying on her back with the book held up by a levitation spell so she did not have to use her hands. The distant look in her eyes made it clear the book was not her actual focus, and the soft sound she made in her throat made him wonder just exactly what she was doing instead.

Tom craned his neck, trying to see more of her, and realized with excitement that her robe was now spread open, revealing her slim, beautiful body for his viewing pleasure. '_And what a pleasure it is_,' he thought as he scooted up so that his back was against the headboard. Eagerly, he continued to stroke himself, finally pulling his hard cock free; it had grown too large to fit comfortably inside the boxers anymore.

He heard the girl sob softly as he did so, and he glanced suspiciously at her face. He almost thought he'd seen her watching him, but just as their eyes met she dropped hers back into that far-away look. Her hand was now inside her own underwear, and he decided with a delicious wickedness that he didn't care if she saw him, since she seemed to be of the same mind as himself as to what to do about it.

Now that he had his suspicions, he set to his task with much greater purpose, intent not just on his own orgasm, but on possibly causing hers as well. It was the single most erotic thing he'd ever done, thinking of someone else's release instead of just his own. His stroking switched to an eager grasp about the middle of his rigid manhood, and he moved his fist up and down, slowly at first, and then faster as her hand quickened, meeting her tempo as her soft sighs became shivering moans instead.

Could she see him? He wondered. Did she know what she was doing to him?

Suddenly, Tom's whole body shuddered as he reached an earth-shattering climax. He tried to hold in his moan of delight as his wet cum spilled all over his hand, but it was too much, If she was truly watching, she had just seen something he'd never allowed anyone else to see, in spite of the fact he'd had girls in his bed before. Never had he allowed himself such an unguarded, open response to his release before this.

He began to hope that she had not seen after all, and was mortified at the redness in his cheeks as he watched her finish as well.

Her eyes shot to her mirror for the briefest of seconds, but he was as certain as he could possibly be without her blatantly staring that she had been looking at him as she came, and the very thought made him feel so many emotions that were alien to him that he tried to end the mirror spell.

For some reason, his attempts did not work. He watched as the girl settled down into her bed and closed her eyes, and decided to do the same.

Perhaps if he went to sleep, the spell would wear off by morning, Tom thought, though somehow he found himself hoping it would not, because he wanted to see his mystery girl's sweet doe eyes again.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: Contemplation

Hermione sighed and continued scanning the shelves in front of her. They creaked slightly as she pressed up against one and stood on her tip-toes to see the highest shelf.

_Already read that one..._

_And that one..._

_That too..._

_And that..._

She groaned and slumped down against the glass of the window, curling her feet up underneath her on the little window seat. She gazed out of the window and wrapped her arms around her knees, letting her eyes dance across the grounds of Hogwarts, over the Whomping Willow and the Quidditch Pitch.

She felt a stab in her chest as she saw Gryffindor's Quidditch team practicing. It reminded her too much of her friends, and she looked away quickly to avoid the sadness thoughts of them often caused.

Her breath fogged up the glass of the window, and she wiped it off with the back of her jumper sleeve. She turned her face away from the window and leaned back against it as her eyes scanned the library, searching to find a shelf that just _maybe _she hadn't already discovered.

She needed her books, now more than ever. There was no one really left for her here anymore; Harry was training to be an Auror and Ron was working in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with George.

Harry had been offered a place back at the school as Head Boy, but he had turned it down.

"_There are too many memories there," _he had told her, _"Bad and good ones, of course, but if I go back, all I'm going to be able to see is the war. All those people—dead."_

Hermione understood. He had struggled since the war had ended with Voldemort's death. He had never wanted to be a killer, even though he knew it was inevitable. She knew Harry considered every single death here at Hogwarts to be his fault. If he had just met Voldemort sooner, she had heard him say more than once, he could have spared so many lives.

Since Hermione had agreed to return to Hogwarts as the Head Girl for her seventh year, and Harry had decided to start off his new life, the two of them hardly ever spoke. He was always off training to be an Auror, or spending time with Ginny or Ron.

Hermione sighed deeply as she thought of Ron. She had once fancied herself to be so in love with him, but when they'd tried to take their relationship to the next level, to actually become physically intimate, the only thing they'd accomplished was some embarrassed fumbling and the sure realization that that kind of relationship was never meant to be between them. They had agreed to be friends, and Ron had taken up with Lavender pretty much where the two had left off. Since then, he hardly ever spoke to her either.

So, Hermione had started to rely heavily on her books for comfort—more heavily than she had ever done before. The trouble was she did not think there was a single book left in this library that she hadn't read.

_That's not quite true, _she reminded herself as her eyes fell upon the one place she had yet to fully explore. The Restricted Section.

She felt herself slowly rise to her feet and walk towards the old, dusty shelves. She stopped quickly and looked over her shoulder.

_What am I doing?_ She thought, mentally disciplining herself. She turned away and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail at the back of her head, shaking it in disbelief and irritation.

But most of those books hadn't been touched yet... not by her hands. No. That section was full of dark materials, and she had only ever entered it in the past out of sheer desperation while trying to end the war. She shouldn't even be _thinking _about going near the place without an excuse of that magnitude. But still, she needed new material.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some sort of light coming from further in. There, on one of the smaller shelves, lay a book flat on its side in front of all the others, and it seemed to be reflecting the light that streamed in from the window behind her.

Hermione glanced around the library again, and seeing that no one was around, dashed forwards, grasped the book in a tight fist, and darted around the corner.

Her heart was pounding as she sucked in a hard, ragged breath. She'd just broken one of the biggest rules of Hogwarts for her own selfish reasons! They would surely take her Head Girl badge off of her if they knew!

She glanced down at the book and saw her own reflection looking back at her.

"Why on earth were _Mirror_ _Spells_ in the _restricted _section?" she growled in irritation. "There can't be anything that bad in a book like this."

But then she had a feeling. There was something dark inside; she could sense it.

She flipped open to the first page and scanned down the contents had to laugh at the pathetic, simple spells listed at the beginning, but as she got further down the list, they got more complex and _interesting._

She stopped at the last three: a duplication spell, a spell to create a sort of 'spy' mirror, and a spell to connect a network of mirrors for communication.

Hermione smirked as she skimmed through the description pages. _Some of these look so easy! _she thought excitedly.

She shrunk the book and pocketed it, quickly leaving the library.

#

When Hermione entered the dorm she ran straight to her bedroom and threw off her cloak. She tossed her bag on the chair by the desk and pulled out the _Mirror Spells_ book and re-enlarged it eagerly.

She was about to open it when she stopped. Retrieving her wand from her cloak, she charmed the cover to look like her favourite book: _Hogwarts: A History – New Edition 1998._Then she went over to the bed and lay down on her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. Starting at the very beginning, Hermione read through all the pages with contented sighs.

She knew most of the spells in the book already, and had even used a few of them during the war. And she had had such high expectations, she thought as she grew bored of her pastime. But then she came across the mirror portal spell and grinned. Now that spell she had not yet tried.

Picking up her wand, she turned to her mirror and practiced the hand movement silently. When she finally mastered it, she grinned even more. This would be a great way to stay in contact with Harry!

She read through the incantation a couple of times, taking note of the pronunciation. Mind reeling over the war and how the spell could have helped defeat Voldemort, she cast it with a flourish.

"Nemalo Sintartus!"

Nothing happened.

Hermione growled in frustration and tried again and again.

Still nothing happened.

She slowly approached the mirror and stretched out her hand.

It made contact with the cold, hard glass.

She threw the book down on her desk and her wand on her bed, and turned away, stripping off her shirt and storming into the bathroom.

She was desperate. She needed _someone _to talk to! She felt closed in, and as much as she loved her books, she couldn't lose herself in them anymore.

The war had hit Harry and Ron hard; they'd both lost a lot of people.

But so had she, and now there was no one for her to talk to about it. She spent her nights curled into a ball, crying silently for fear that Malfoy would hear her She thought about the deaths of her parents and her best friend, Jessie, who had been killed for being a Muggle.

Hermione turned on the hot water and stripped off, stepping under the warm spray to hide the tears as she remembered all those she'd lost. She rolled her shoulders and tried to loosen the muscles.

She washed thoroughly, scrubbing every inch of her skin. She could still feel the dirt and blood from the Final Battle even now.

Eventually, she stopped. Her skin had turned a vivid shade of red, and she could see tiny scratches here and there from scrubbing too hard. She stepped out carefully, grabbed the towel off of the rack and dried her hair as thoroughly as she could.

She stared up at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying and her hair stuck out in every direction. She pulled a hair brush out of the drawer and ran it through the long, recently tamed curls.

She slowly took in a breath and nodded once at her reflection before leaving the bathroom, wrapped up in a fluffy white bathrobe.

She breezed through the doorway and grabbed the book back off of the desk and returned to her bed. Placing the book down on the bed, she was just about to take off her robe when she noticed something. She looked up at the mirror; it seemed to be... well... fuzzy.

And it looked as if there were a... a _boy _staring at her.

He moved slightly, and there seemed to be some sort of spell coming from the wand in his hand. His image flickered, but nothing else happened.

Something about this boy seemed familiar, and she approached the mirror confidently. As she stood in front of it, she tilted her head slightly away and shifted the dressing gown back up onto her shoulders, watching him from the corner of her eye.

She knew who he was; Harry had shown her all the memories Dumbledore had sent him into just before the war started. Right now, Tom Riddle looked a little older than he had when he'd asked Slughorn about the Horcruxes. She guessed that since he appeared to have his own room that he must be in his seventh year, and Head Boy at Hogwarts.

Her heart had begun to flutter as soon as she spotted him. She could not understand why Tom Marvolo Riddle, the future Lord Voldemort, was watching her through her mirror, but she couldn't help but feel gratified by it. After all, she had always understood exactly why the girls in his time all threw themselves at the handsome young man's feet. To be honest, she would have done the same. She could just imagine how Harry and Ron would have reacted if she did, yet still, this man had always secretly been her darkest desire.

She heard his sharp intake of breath when she let her robe fall open slightly, and smiled to herself. She grasped her wand from the bed excitedly and cast the next spell on her list: the two way mirror.

The glass rippled slightly, but cleared up the picture of Riddle. Although still blurry, she could see the finer details. She stared into the mirror and pretended that she didn't notice him. As she posed before the mirror, she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling, but it was worth it to see Riddle's jaw drop as he watched her. He made her feel good about herself, but she also felt a little self-conscious as she caught sight of her wayward curls.

She lifted her hands to her damp hair and pouffed it slightly, trying to give it a little more volume. She tried not to acknowledge it when Tom approaching the mirror, but she just had to look into those dark, stormy blue eyes. She grinned, stuck her tongue between her teeth, and dashed for the bed so she would not burst into a fit of girlish giggles.

Flopping herself down on the large mattress, she lay on her stomach and pulled the _Mirror Spells _across, perching it in front of her.

Her eyes flickered through the Two Way Mirror page and she skimmed the warning section.

_You must think of the person/mirror you wish to contact while you cast the spell, otherwise, there is a possibility of connecting with a random mirror around the world._

Well, she thought with a delectable shiver as Tom returned to his bed and began to stroke himself, lucky for her she had been thinking of him—and after tonight, she would never be able to think of anyone else ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: Bloody Malfoy

About a week had passed since Tom had first spotted his angel in the mirror. He found himself looking forward to bedtime more and more, to the point of actually allowing himself the pleasure of going there sooner and more often—a rare occurrence for him, to be sure. He had even taken to standing in his mirror when she was not there, trying to find any clues that would tell him more about her.

Finally he had spotted some paperwork with her name written on it—Hermione Granger. He read the paper itself so many times he had it memorized. A treatise on magical practices through the ages, which he thought was better even than the one he'd written himself. Clearly she had more intelligence than any other girl he knew, and he longed to talk to her about—well, everything, if he ever could.

He may not know everything there was to know about her, but he couldn't get her out of his mind. If he had been any other student, his obsession might well have interfered with his school work or his duties as Head Boy, but of course, he was not any other student. If anything, knowing that she had bested him on that paper made him work even harder than before.

Tom decided to spend Friday night in his room "studying" and headed there with great anticipation. It seemed his sweet angel had done the same. He couldn't help but thrill to the fact they seemed so in accord as he tried not to smile.

She was lying on her bed with a book, as usual, already in her favorite position on her back with the book floating near her face. With a rather animalistic growl Tom began to unbuckle his belt as he stood right in the mirror, gazing at her beautiful face, when suddenly he stopped short and quickly cast a disillusionment charm when he heard someone else's voice.

"Granger?" called out a snide male. Tom felt a hot surge of anger and jealousy well up inside him, which he quickly tamped down as he continued to stare.

The girl groaned in total disgust and rolled onto her side to lean up on her elbow as a very blond boy entered her room unbidden. "What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" she hissed through a clenched jaw.

Tom's eyebrows shot upward in surprise. So, a Malfoy would become Head Boy in the future, he thought. That should not be too surprising, particularly if Abraxas continued in his habit of buying anything he wanted. Tom had always had mixed feelings concerning that particular follower, for he needed his money much more than he needed his insufferable mouth.

This particular Malfoy, however, appeared to be more of an insufferable prat even than his obnoxious ancestor. He wore a smirk so disdainful it transformed his entire face into a hideous mask of self-righteousness. It was clear by the look on her face that Hermione did not like him, either.

Malfoy stepped up to the bed and tried to rub her shoulder, but she flinched away as he said, "I just thought you might like some company."

She growled angrily, and spat out her next words in a rush of agitation. "Why don't you go play with Parkinson, ferret? I'm sure she wouldn't mind a late night shag."

Malfoy scoffed and said, "Hey, at least I can get laid, unlike you."

Hermione pulled herself up off the bed and stood in front of Malfoy so that she could get right up in his face as she replied, each word pronounced with succinct emphasis, "Will you just fuck off?"

Tom felt a little thrill of delight pass through him as he watched her. Her head barely reached the boy's shoulder, yet she attacked him with a ferocity that showed no fear. The fire in her eyes was impressive to behold, and Malfoy backed up slightly in reaction before he ground out, "What's the matter, Granger? Still hurting over the Weasel?"

"Of course not!" she protested hotly. "Ron and I broke up as friends, you know that."

"You're still sore that you're such a lousy shag that he decided to go back to something better," Malfoy chuckled darkly. "But what did he expect from a stupid little Mudblood like you anyway?"

Hermione's eyes shot involuntarily toward the mirror for just the briefest of seconds when he said that, and Tom's brow shot up in surprise. It took him a moment to digest the information, and a moment longer to realize he was not even upset by it. Strange, indeed, he thought. He should have been furious by the news, and cast her immediately from his mind, yet he did not feel even the slightest inclination to do so.

Then she pulled out her wand and slashed it quickly over the palm of Malfoy's hand. The boy cursed loudly, and hissed as he held the hand to his chest. Hermione winced as she sliced the wand across her own palm too, and then clasped Malfoy's bleeding hand in hers.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy screamed as he tried to shove her away. Hermione stood her ground for a few more seconds before she released him and he stumbled slightly because he was still trying to pull away when she let go. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Where's mine?" she demanded hotly as she turned his palm up so he could see it.

The Malfoy boy looked at it as though it were some alien creature intent on biting his face off. "Wh—what? What do you mean?" he stammered in confusion.

Hermione pointed at his palm insistently and asked, "Come on, Draco, don't be stupid. Whose blood is whose? Point mine out to me? Where's the difference?

Malfoy glared at her, then stared at his hand for a moment before he glared again.

"Can't see one, can you?" she smirked. "And do you know why? Because my blood is not dirty. My blood is clean, and although it may not have spawned from pure magical blood, magic still runs through my veins."

"How dare you touch me, you vile wench?" Draco spat at her as he yanked his hand away yet again.

Crack! Hermione shoved him away with a smile of satisfaction as she stared at the layer of blood her hand had left on his now reddened cheek. Raising her wand to her palm, she sealed her wound and then cleaned the mess on the floor.

Hermione chuckled as she watched Malfoy just stand there a few moments, completely dumbfounded, and then she crawled back onto her bed and rolled onto her back again and made Hogwarts: a History float back above her head as if nothing had happened.

Draco Malfoy backed silently out of the room, sealing his palm and cleaning away the blood on it as he went with a flick of his wand. Tom could only speculate as to whether or not he'd gone off to find whatever Parkinson Hermione had been talking about.

Hermione smirked a few moments later when the distinct sound of the portrait slamming shut echoed through her room. Obviously she had really enjoyed the power she had just wielded over her recent prey.

Tom was still standing in the mirror, slightly stunned by what he had just seen. The Dark Lord within him should be appalled to learn that his angel was, in fact, a Mudblood, but every particle of his being refused to be abhorred. How could he find fault with her when she was everything he could ever want in a woman?—fierce, powerful, knowledgeable- she embodied all the traits he had always longed for but could never seem to find. And she was beautiful, as well. He could not tear his eyes away from her beautiful, smiling face.

It made him so hot just looking at her that his body was on fire with need as he continued to stare, infinitely aware that there was no turmoil within him over her blood-status, and unable even to hate himself for the weakness. He became uncomfortably aware of just how hard he had grown, and now he could no longer stand the throbbing pressure of his aching need.

"Hermione Granger," he whispered softly, his voice husky with desire. He walked back to his bed and lay down, never taking his eyes off of her as he stroked, pretending every movement of his hand was a movement of hers, every sound he made was caused by her. He could almost fancy he had just figured out why other people believed in that silly fantasy called love—though of course, his rational mind reminded him he was far too practical for such sentiments himself.

The more he teased himself, the more difficult it became to wait for her to do the same, but Tom was nothing if not patient. Though he began to squirm uncomfortably, he did not seek any true gratification while she continued to read.

Finally, blissfully, her hands slid slowly down her body, stopping to unfasten her robe and let it fall away. Tom's groan of delight was met with a little shiver of her own, and he felt an evil little smile touch his lips. She definitely knew that he was there, watching her, and she liked it as much as he did.

His eyes followed her hands avidly as one found a nipple and the other began to creep lower still. Just to tease her further, he whispered softly, "Touch it, Hermione. I want to see you come, and lick off every last drop."

The statement did wonders for her libido, it seemed. He was certain that she'd been trying to resist when she'd taken so long to succumb, but now the look on her face was more wild than before, a look filled with hunger and a need as great as his own. But at the same time, he could see a devilish glint as her hand slowed to an excruciating speed on its journey, taking almost a whole minute to finally slide into the underwear which still hid the sight maddeningly from his view.

"Mmmm," she breathed with an exaggerated sigh, and her eyes shot to his, not even trying to pretend anymore that she did not see him. Tom watched as she slowly took in every nuance of his face, and then her eyes slid down his body to where his hand still stroked his swollen member with just two fingers.

Then he grinned, and took it into his hand, muttering, "I want your sweet little mouth, love," as he watched her hand. She groaned as her fingers increased in speed, just for a few seconds in which she had lost control, and then her resolve returned and her hand slowed again.

She closed her eyes then, denying him their beautiful depths.

"Don't deny yourself what you desire," he whispered, gratified when they popped open again.

Her jaw went slack, and she began to finger herself in earnest. Tom matched her stroke for stroke, groaning when it felt especially nice, and each sound he made fueled her fire more, until she was groaning along with him.

"Tom!" she breathed, barely even loud enough to hear, as she began to come. He pumped harder than ever as she continued her spasms of delight, and eagerly caught up with her.

"Yes! Yes, Hermione, I want to fuck you so bad," he told her as the wetness spilled again and again across his hand. It wasn't enough anymore, he lamented, as he moved his hand to his lips and snaked out his tongue just to see what she would do.

"Oh!" she groaned hotly, and her own hand came up to do the same. Their eyes met and locked in sultry desire, and in mutual accord each of them began the slow, downward journey again.

Good thing they'd gone to bed early, and it was Friday night, thought Tom with a satisfied smile. It looked as though this would take a while.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR: School Daze

When Hermione woke on Monday morning she was completely exhausted. Her muscles ached, and she felt far more ready to go back to sleep than she did to get dressed and head to her potions class.

The few hours of sleep she did manage to get had been filled with dreams of Tom Riddle. She knew that she should not indulge herself in such an unhealthy desire, but how could she not when the target of her affections seemed so willing to cooperate? Never in her wildest dreams had she thought he would want her, but it had become quite clear now that Tom Riddle wanted her very much.

_Tom—_a smile spread across Hermione's face as she thought about the weekend the two had shared. Although they had not actually made any physical contact with each other, Hermione had never felt more loved or wanted by anyone in her entire life.

She would have expected the most notorious, evil wizard in the world to be a selfish man, but Tom seemed to be quite the opposite, at least when it came to their bedroom interactions. He had been infinitely patient with Hermione, making certain that she reached her own pleasure before indulging in his own. She imagined that he would do the same if they became lovers in truth, and the very thought had her so hot she could barely breathe.

Their time together had been sheer bliss now that they had both admitted they could see each other. Of course they'd each known before that the other was watching, but it was so much better to hear his voice saying her name, to hear him telling her what he wanted, that she was almost giddy with excitement.

She had fallen asleep with a smile on her face and the lull of his heavy breathing in her ears, pretending it was her own bed he slept in, holding her close. She woke this morning and found that he wasn't there. His bedroom was spotless, and not one item in it was out of its proper place.

His bloody room was completely immaculate.

Hermione's eyes darted guiltily back to her own surroundings, and she gasped in embarrassment. Her room was totally thrashed, especially in comparison to his. Socks and other articles of clothing were strewn everywhere, and she had failed to make her bed as well.

She was usually a very tidy person, but lately she'd been so busy with her class work, her duties as Head Girl, and—well, and her evenings with Tom, that she had completely forgotten about tidying up her room while she was at it.

She bit her lip and muttered a spell as she twirled her wand about in broad circles before her. Her errant clothes were magically sorted into two piles—the clean ones, and the dirty ones—and stacked neatly on the desk in the corner.

When she'd finished this task, Hermione turned back to the mirror to get a better sense of what Tom would see as he looked in from his own room. His room and her own were very similar. Both of them had a large bookcase full of tons and tons of books, but while Tom's neat, uniform tomes sported covers of black or gray, and the shelf looked as though it was practically brand new, Hermione's bookshelf was much older. She had even been forced to cast some major strengthening spells on the aged wood just to make certain her books would not fall off.

Curious, she squinted slightly to get a better look at the titles on his shelf, and recognized quite a few of them. Most of the topics she found were rather dark in their nature, but that would make sense, considering the source.

Her eyes flickered back to her own bookshelf, and she giggled slightly as she noticed the difference. While Tom's shelves were full of dark, colourless, wizard books, her own was filled with bright, colourful volumes, and at least half of them were Muggle books. She had an almost equal number of fiction and non-fiction books as well, and anyone who viewed this shelf could get a clear sense of who she was—magic and Muggle, truth and fantasy, light as well as dark. In short, she was eclectic.

Hermione could not help but think her bookshelf was far more interesting than Tom's. It brought out a sense of curiosity, and made the whole room seem more alive. Tom's collection was more likely to elicit fear than it would joy.

But as she shook her head sharply and turned to peruse his room again, a warmth spread through her as her eyes flickered across his bed as she pictured him on it the night before. She trembled deliciously, and a hot blush settled across her cheeks as she thought of the things he had said.

"I want your sweet little mouth, love," he'd told her as he stroked his long, hard shaft. Her mouth watered yet again just thinking of it—his hushed, intense voice was like the ultimate aphrodisiac, and she was more than willing to imbibe.

She tried to cool the heat between her thighs by clamping her legs tightly together and turning away from the mirror and all its enticing memories. With a sharp glance at the small clock on the wall above her bed, she was startled back into reality. The tension building up in her would have to wait, as she had already missed breakfast and was fairly close to being late to her potions class with Professor Slughorn as well.

Not wanting to ruin her perfect attendance, Hermione quickly got dressed and prepared to go. She didn't mind waiting until later, since she would much rather have Tom with her when she slaked the lust he had spawned, urging her on to ever greater heights of pleasure.

Everyone was just filing into the room when Hermione arrived, just in time. She entered along with the others and took her seat beside Malfoy as usual.

"Do I make you that hot?" Draco whispered wickedly into Hermione's ear. The smug look on his face was especially annoying considering the topic. Hermione froze as she stared straight ahead at Slughorn, unwilling to dignify him with a response.

"What are you talking about?" she finally decided to ask him.

Draco smirked and rubbed a couple of his fingers across the scar on his palm, identical to her own.

He said, "I never knew you were a sadomasochist."

Hermione's eyes flickered up to his face, and she backed away in surprise when she noticed just how close he was. "I don't understand what you mean, Malfoy," she stuttered as she pulled her text book from her bag and flicked through the pages to find the potion they were meant to be brewing today.

Polyjuice potion was more of a review than a lesson for Hermione. The potion was used to change the appearance of its user for a limited period of time, generally about an hour, and she could usually brew the stuff without even looking at the book.

She smirked down at the book, knowing that this would be an easy Owl, but she decided that she should probably try to study the book in front of her anyway, just in case.

Trying to concentrate on Slughorn's instructions was difficult while Draco Malfoy was leaning closer than necessary and breathing heavily into her ear. She glanced over at him for a moment, then looked quickly away again when she saw the look of barely concealed desire in his eyes.

"Here's an idea, Granger, how about if next time you use a silencing charm," he suggested, but then paused a moment before grinning with an even better idea. "Or, you could always invite me to join you."

Hermione's face was completely red as she continued to stare at her book. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Malfoy would have heard the noises she'd been making last night—she hadn't exactly been quiet, and the walls were not that thick.

Malfoy's chuckle caused her blush to deepen even more, but for the moment he backed off to listen as Slughorn gave a dramatic speech about the dangers of using the potion improperly. Hermione winced, and thought about how she had accidentally added cat hair to a polyjuice potion she'd made in second year, and the disastrous result she herself had experienced. She never wanted to be turned into a cat again, that was for sure.

Now that Malfoy was distracted, Hermione happily took her chance to read through the instructions, making certain she still remembered them exactly. But she could not seem to give the task her full concentration as her thoughts kept drifting back to Tom.

His face danced before her vision as if he was truly there, and she longed to touch him in reality. She loved the image of Tom's face contorted in sheer pleasure, and the look she'd surprised on her own reflection in the mirror as she watched him. Her own face had slightly covered his, blending the two of them into one, and it had made her heart skip much faster when she'd seen it.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her thought that she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt Malfoy tug on her collar to get her attention.

"What?" she snapped, annoyed by the interruption.

"We need our ingredients," he said in a demanding tone as he fiddled with his ring. It had the Malfoy seal clearly imbedded on it, and Hermione's nose crinkled in distaste as she thought about how much she disliked every Malfoy male she's ever met.

"Well then go get them," she told him. Truth be told, Hermione was feeling so weak in the knees that she was afraid to get up, yet when Draco simply sat there and stared at her, she got up just to get away from him.

Draco smirked triumphantly as Hermione took her first few shaky steps. The dumb git probably thought his nearness was the reason for her unsettled nerves. He couldn't be farther from the truth, because only Tom occupied her thoughts—she couldn't seem to get him out of her mind as she opened the storage cabinet and pulled out the necessary ingredients for their potion.

Malfoy took everything out of her hands as soon as she returned, and started to sort the ingredients into piles. Hermione just stood there and watched him. She couldn't believe she was acting like a hormone-driven, electrified shell of her former self. She was Hermione Granger, and she never focused on carnal pleasures like this. She was a bookworm, not a sex fiend.

"I could do with some help here, Granger," Malfoy hissed.

Hermione looked up with a start of surprise yet again, further fueling Malfoy's growing delusion that he somehow had made her this addled. He pointed at the ingredients, and Hermione took a deep breath and started to help. She really needed to put Tom Riddle out of her mind.

Just as she was about to put in the next ingredient, a hand came down on hers, clamping tightly around her wrist. She looked up into Professor Slughorn's eyes in surprise.

"Miss Granger," he gasped in alarm. "You haven't put in the leeches yet. It's not time for the knotgrass."

The entire class fell silent as they watched the conversation. Hermione's face flushed, and she hung her head in embarrassment. Malfoy just stood there and glared at her.

"Sorry, Professor," she said. "I wasn't thinking."

Slughorn gaped at her for a moment, as if she'd just announced the world was about to end. Hermione was his best student, and she never got anything wrong. "Well, then, Granger, maybe you should pull your head down out of the clouds before you send us all up into them."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you quite all right, Miss Granger?" Slughorn inquired, bending down to look at her. Hermione's head throbbed, and she mentally scolded herself. If she could just get her mind off Tom for one minute, she might actually get something done.

She slumped down at the table and put her head on her arms, and Slughorn took the hint. He left her to her thoughts and returned to the front of the classroom.

Malfoy sniggered in his seat beside hers, and Hermione suddenly realized that she needed some air. She quickly grabbed up her books and stormed out of the classroom, with the haunting thoughts of Tom Riddle still spinning about in her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE: Future Shock

Tom was awake bright and early on Monday morning, ready to put some renewed effort into his rounds as Head Boy. He caught a couple of second year students kissing behind the Astronomy Tower on the way to breakfast, and deducted points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively as a result.

Tom usually would have found deducting points for naughty behavior invigorating because it gave him a sense of control. Yet, for once, he did not feel as satisfied about it as usual. His mind was far too occupied with thoughts of Hermione Granger.

He barely paid attention to the teacher in Ancient Runes, though he was fairly certain the woman had said nothing of great importance anyway. He was half tempted to get himself excused by saying he was ill or something, but Tom had never missed a class due to illness unless he was strapped down to a bed in the hospital wing to keep him down.

He supposed he was a bit of a perfectionist, really. Neatness and uniformity suited him best, and made the most sense to him. The way he saw it, having a sense of order was necessary to progress in any endeavor—after all, if a building had no foundation it wasn't likely to stand long.

All right, he finally admitted. Forcing his brain onto other paths didn't help either. All he could do was wish the foundation he was building would help him build a house for two. He was well and truly disgusted with himself. He would not be some lovesick ass who followed around the girl of his dreams just as surely as if she had ahold of his leading string. It was barely even the middle of the day, but he found himself standing outside the entrance to his dorm, saying the password that would let him in.

"Cattus obtinuit lingua," he said. He smirked as he thought about the meaning of the words—"cat got your tongue". The animal symbol for Gryffindor was a lion, and he most definitely wanted his little lioness to "get his tongue". A shiver of delight passed through his body at the very thought as he visualized the two of them locked in a kiss, their tongues dancing around each other as the tension built up to fever pitch.

"Stop it!" he commanded himself as he mounted the stairs up to his bedroom three at a time. He was certainly glad no one was around to see that. Tom Riddle never took shortcuts, never skipped out on classes, and most certainly never shouted at himself in a vain attempt to make his mind cooperate.

He had not expected Hermione to be there at this hour, and especially not with another person as well. Tom hid himself with the flick of his wand, and sat on the edge of his bed to stare through the full-length mirror at the scene as it played out before him.

"Ginny, what's this all about?" Hermione said to the pretty red-haired girl.

"Well, it's nothing, really, I guess," Ginny said, blushing slightly.

"I know better than that," Hermione insisted as she sat down on the chair beside her desk. "You never come to see me in the middle of a school day for no good reason. Besides, I can tell you're upset about something."

"It's kind of silly," she admitted as she sprawled out on Hermione's bed so that her feet were practically over top of her head as she waved them in the air behind her. "It's about Harry. It seems like every time we go somewhere, there's always someone there saying 'there goes the boy who lived'. It's getting bloody ridiculous. I mean, he's not even a boy anymore, you know?"

"Fame sometimes makes for an uncomfortable bedfellow," Hermione commented with a rueful chuckle. "Unfortunately, it can also make for having no bedfellows at all."

"Oh, Mione, I'm sorry," Ginny gasped. "I know you must be so lonely, now that Ron's gone. Maybe you should try to find someone new—someone who will actually give you all the things you wanted but didn't get from my toad of a brother."

"Things?" Hermione repeated with a laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, come on, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Ginny said with a blush. "You did tell me you two never—um—joined forces. Don't make that horrendous face, you know that I'm trying to say you're still a virgin. Why do I have to spell it out for you?"

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she glanced over at her mirror with a wince. She must not have seen him, Tom decided, because she turned back to Ginny again. If he'd been hot for her before, learning about this little tidbit put Tom very near to exploding. He began to stroke himself as he realized something important—Hermione Granger would be his, and only his. He intended to make certain of it.

"That's true, I am most definitely a virgin," Hermione said lightly. "But Ginny, we're not here to talk about my problems. We're trying to solve yours—and believe me it would be much easier to do if you would just get around to telling me what the devil it is."

"Harry fell asleep," she blurted out.

"Asleep, as in—?"

"You know—during," she said, blushing profusely.

"Oh, okay," Hermione said with an uncomfortable look on her face. "Well, you know, Harry is working really hard training to be an Auror. Maybe he was just really tired."

"Well yeah, but he's never done it before," Ginny complained. "You know that we had sex the first time before he killed the Dark Lord, and ended the war, and in all that time since then we've been completely mad for each other. Why would he suddenly lose interest now?"

"Ginny, I know Harry better than that," Hermione insisted. "He is not going to lose interest in you. He loves you very much. Why else would he want to marry you?"

Tom stopped stroking and just stared now, with a gaze so intense the two young women would have certainly been frightened if they could see him. He wanted to know—needed to know—just what Dark Lord the redhead had been referring to. If he could have asked them straight out, he would have felt much better, but he could just imagine how that scenario would play out.

"I've always been a little insecure, I guess," Ginny conceded. "But still, I hate to imagine what my life would be like without Harry. He has touched the lives of almost every wizard alive today, and they all owe him a debt of gratitude for killing Lord Voldemort in the end."

Tom's heart skipped a beat. Hermione looked over at the mirror yet again, obviously worried about whether or not he had heard anything. He willed them to continue with every ounce of his being. He needed to know what would happen to him, how he would die by this Harry Potter's hand.

"Ginny, you have no reason to be insecure," Hermione told her friend. "Harry loves you with all his heart, and he always will. No matter what happens you can always count on that. He must simply have been tired. I'm quite certain of it."

"Oh, I know," she conceded. "I really shouldn't have bothered you with this in the middle of a school day. I just—I miss you sometimes, Hermione. We used to be together all the time, sharing secrets and such, but anymore these days I'm lucky to see you in a month."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione apologized. "I guess I've been so busy lately that I have been neglecting my friends. I promise you that I'll try to do better when I'm able."

Hermione stepped over to her full-length mirror and looked right into Tom's eyes, a small smile playing about her lips. Tom smiled, not for the first time wondering how she could still see him after he'd cast a disillusion to hide. Was it something she did to the mirror, to herself, or to him personally? For that matter, she might have done all three.

Tom began to pace a little bit as she continued to gaze at him. He had realized a few things since this mirror had begun to see glimpses into the future, not the least of which was the fact that his heart was not as dark as he wished it to be. It was thudding in his chest even now just because of this girl. And of course, it didn't help much to recognize that part of it was also a reaction to having knowledge of his own death. He needed to know the particulars. Was there not some way he could find out?

With a sigh, Tom turned back to the book of Mirror Spells he'd left on the desk when he'd last read it. Perhaps he could find other mirrors into Hermione Granger's place and time. Maybe he might even be able to find some way to follow her throughout the day—just to learn more about her time, of course. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he missed her so much whenever they were apart. A notion like that could prove that Lord Voldemort was capable of something as human as love—and he could not possibly acknowledge something like that!

As he thumbed his way through the book, he sat on the edge of his bed so Hermione could see him. He wished Ginny would either go away, or drop a few more clues about the future. It looked like she was never going to leave, and Tom would be forced to go back to class without being able to relieve the aching between his legs. Unless, of course, he went to visit Myrtle in her bathroom, he added with a wicked chuckle. The ghost had asked him often enough in the past, he was sure she'd welcome him if he tried.

"Well, Ginny, I've got to get ready for my next class," Hermione said briskly after she looked at her clock. Tom looked at the thing she held in one of her hands with interest. Of course, he thought with a grin, he could always cast the mirror spell on the tiny mirror she was about to put into her book bag. He should have thought of that before. Even if he couldn't see her beautiful face unless she took it out, the compact would put him in a position to hear everything that was happening around her.

Quickly, before she could leave on him, Tom whispered the words to the spell and saw a bluish glow of light for the briefest of moments, and when she turned back around to grab the bag the glow had already faded away. He had no doubt the spell had worked correctly, so all he needed to do now was keep tabs on her with a mirror of his own.

It was almost a little exciting to think about what would happen next, and Tom tried to tamp down the emotion resolutely. This was not some joyride, this was business. He needed to find out some specific things before he could decide what to do. And he needed to do it as soon as possible, in case these mirrors ceased to function for any reason. One never could tell about the fickle nature of an inanimate object, after all.

Still, he chided himself, he ought to just let himself succumb to the temptation his heart was feeling now concerning Hermione. It might be good for him to have a girl to call his own, and it sounded very much like Hermione needed him, too. Whoever this Ron was, he had been a fool to let her go. Tom was no fool. He didn't know precisely when he'd made his decision, but his mind was apparently made up. No matter where they might find themselves in the future, one thing was always certain: Hermione was his.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX: A Bewitched Bag

Hermione brushed her hair out of her eyes as she strolled down the corridor, a light skip in her step. The conversation with Ginny had gone well, she thought, although it was a little awkward with Tom sitting on the other side of the mirror.

Poor Ginny. she seemed so upset. Hermione was adamant that Harry was not tiring of her— he loved her too much to do so. He was always talking about her whenever Hermione had the chance to see him, and as happy for him and his newfound love as she was, she felt a little bit left out.

Harry hardly ever asked her how _she_ was doing anymore, and that hurt. There used to be a time when he had looked out for her, but anymore he didn't even look for her at all. He was too busy with his own life.

However, he had seemed pretty exhausted the last time they'd seen each other. She could literally see the tiredness in his eyes. She knew Harry well, and so she was fairly certain that was the only reason he would fall asleep like he did.

Hermione was still puzzled as to why Harry would _want_an Auror job, considering he'd fought and destroyed the Darkest Wizard alive, but he seemed to enjoy the rush of putting himself in permanent danger, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

She thought back to her conversation with Ginny, and her eyes widened when she realized the other topic of their discussion. They had just been talking about the war, and how Harry Potter had killed the darkest wizard in their world.

There was no doubt that Tom had heard her, since Ginny had not been speaking quietly, but he didn't seem to react much at the news of _his own_ death. Maybe he'd been a little confused, which would be expected, but not much more than that.

_What if she was changing the future? __Hermione wondered with a gasp__. __She_stopped in her own tracks for a moment and pondered the situation. She had just allowed Tom Riddle—the darkest wizard in the world, known to all as Lord Voldemort—to listen in on a conversation between her and Ginny about how her _best friend_had killed him.

"What have I done?" Hermione muttered to herself. "What will he do?"

Was _she_ the one that had set Harry up as a target to Lord Voldemort all along? Was it her conversation, and not some prophecy, that had set events in the order they had taken?

It certainly seemed like a possibility right now. Tom had been sitting there throughout the whole conversation. They had mentioned him both as Lord Voldemort, _and_ as the Dark Lord, so he knew they were talking about him. He knew about the war, and that he was killed by Harry Potter in the end.

Hermione was dazed and frightened that this had happened. She was certain that Tom would not take the news in stride—after all, he was the Dark Lord. But she knew there was nothing that could be done about it at this point. Tom knew what he knew, and she could not change that.

The whole conversation and all of its ramifications would have to be forgotten for now. As Head Girl, she needed to focus a lot more than she had been recently. And she certainly didn't want her schoolwork to suffer either.

She walked resolutely towards her next class: History of Muggles. She wasn't in the mood for it today; she wanted to spend time in her dorm, talking... _talking_ to Tom. She wanted to know his thoughts, and not just his thoughts on the war and his imminent death. She wanted to know _everything_. To just listen to his voice as he spoke to her, to hear the smooth baritone timbre that always thrilled her to the bone.

The thought of it washed over her in a warm heat that settled somewhere in her middle. She really wished she didn't have to go to this class. She already knew most of the things they were covering because she had, herself, been brought up in the Muggle society. It seemed stupid to go to a class on Muggles when you were, in fact, a Muggle.

But she knew that she would go, because she wanted to get another NEWT out of it. Another stepping stone to a bright future.

Yet what would her future be without Tom? He was _dead_ in her time, but her need for him grew with every single breath she took. How had she allowed herself to want this man all these years, to yearn for him so much that she had actually called him up in a wayward mirror spell? There had to be more to it than mere coincidence, hadn't there?

Hermione was suddenly snapped out of her musings by the sound of shouting somewhere up ahead. She paused and listened, silently, and then ran to the next corridor.

"Hey, what is going on here?" Hermione demanded. "You Slytherins leave that boy alone."

Pansy Parkinson froze and turned slowly towards Hermione, her eyes wide. "Granger?" she scowled as she stepped away from the pack of boys who surrounded her. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Hermione hissed. "What do you think you're doing picking on a second year... and a Hufflepuff, no less?"

Parkinson just glared at the small boy and hissed at him. The Hufflepuff scrambled up off of the floor, grabbed his bag and dashed down the corridor past Hermione. Slowly, Parkinson, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle turned back to face her.

"We were just having a friendly discussion," Parkinson told her.

The boys snickered.

"And it sure seemed like it." Hermione scoffed. "You're a _s__eventh year, Parkinson_; you should be a bit more responsible."

Pansy stepped towards her, her eyes gone dark with anger. "And what are you—a low down, dirty little Mudblood—going to do about it?" She lifted her pug nose into the air triumphantly, as if she had already won the battle.

Hermione just smirked. "50 points from Slytherin for disrespecting authority, Parkinson," she declared sweetly. She turned to the other Slytherins, and added, "And another 50 points to be taken from _each_of you, for your childish, reckless behaviour. You should be setting an example for the younger students, not harassing them."

The Slytherin's all fell silent, aside from some slight mumbling.

Hermione's eyes flickered to the six students that stood in the corridor, watching. "Any more comments?"

They kept their mouths shut.

But someone was mumbling. Hermione couldn't make out everything the voice said, but she caught the words, "Can't even have a bit of fun…stupid rules….Gryffindors."

She furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the group again before waving a hand at them and saying, "You may go now."

The four Slytherins glared at her as they retreated in the opposite direction to the poor little Hufflepuff boy. Hermione stood silently and listened intently to the muttering she could still hear, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

She followed her ears to her bag and furrowed her brow, holding it to her ear, "What the—?" she began, and pulled open the flap of her bag to rummage around inside, listening harder.

When her hand pulled out a compact mirror, she gasped. "No!He didn't!" She shook her head in disbelief as she flipped it open.

There was nothing out of the ordinary in the reflection she found there aside from the blonde figure she could see standing behind her.

"Nice display there, Granger," Draco whispered into her ear. Hermione snapped the mirror shut and spun around to meet his eyes.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she growled. She was irritated enough already. She'd had to take points from another house, and she'd not had the time for her _meeting _with Tom before she'd had to leave the dormitory. She wanted her release-to feel alive as only Tom could make her feel-but she'd have to wait for that.

Malfoy certainly wasn't helping her stay calm in the meantime.

He smirked down at her. "What do you think I want?" he asked as he lifted a hand to brush one of Hermione's curls from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Hermione gasped slightly as his hand brushed against her cheek. "Granger, you look tense," he muttered pityingly. Then he looked in her eyes with a large grin, as if he'd gotten an idea. "We should shag."

She swore she heard a growl that didn'temit from her. Her eyes glanced towards the compact mirror she'd placed on the top of her bag, and back up to Malfoy.

"Malfoy, you can go shag Hagrid's dog for all I care, but you can't have me."

Draco raised an eyebrow in shock and his jaw dropped slightly. Hermione smiled and pushed the boy away from her, storming off towards her next class. Since he was also in the class he tagged along behind her, not yet willing to admit defeat.

Hermione took a seat near the back of the room, and no one had sat beside her yet, so Draco plopped down in the chair next to her with feigned innocence when she cast him an annoyed stare.

"What do you want now?" she complained as she went about arranging her books on her desk. She grabbed the little mirror out of her bag and surreptitiously looked inside again, hoping she would catch a glimpse of the suspected mumbler. Either Tom was too quick for her, or she was simply imagining things.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione shut the lid again, but found that she could not put the small, circular object down. She ran her fingers over it absently, her eyes far away, as she thought of the man himself. Tom; she breathed him in, seeing him just as if he were in her arms. She could almost taste his lips, almost feel the softness of his hair between her fingers as she mussed up his perfectly combed locks with devilish glee.

"What are you thinking about, Hermione?" Draco inquired as he put a hand over the one she was using to caress the compact. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were in love with that thing."

"What?" she asked, pulled immediately out of her reverie. "I'm certainly not in love, what do you mean?"

"Of course you are," he cajoled her. "You know that you have secretly always loved me. You like the fact that I am a powerful, handsome wizard, destined for greatness."

"I liked you better when you hated me, actually," she said with a pointed stare.

"Don't touch her!" the compact snarled. Hermione opened it again, quite certain this time that she had not imagined Tom's voice within. She just barely caught a glimpse of his eyes glaring out before he disappeared again.

"What the hell?" Draco gasped. "Did your mirror just snarl at me?"

"Leave, Malfoy! Now!" Tom told him.

Draco did not hesitate to do as the commanding voice said. Hermione tried not to laugh at the look on his face, but it was just too comical to ignore.

"Why did you do that, Tom?" she whispered as she looked into the compact again. His eyes looked right into hers, and she could see mischief in their depths.

"Just a bit of fun, Hermione," he said with a sly smile. "Some of us do like to have fun sometimes. Will you be in early tonight?"

"No, sorry, I can't," she said, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. "I have to attend a meeting with Malfoy and the prefects tonight. We're supposed to come up with an entertainment for Yule."

"How about a masquerade?" Tom suggested. "Wouldn't it be a lark if I could be there, too? Bet I'd certainly surprise everyone at midnight, right?"

"I don't think you'd be very welcome, Tom," she told him honestly. "At least, not by the others. But if you were there, I would be honored to dance in your arms all night long."

"Mmm, you know I would love to have you in them, my dear," he assured her.

Hermione blushed, and said, "Well, class has started, I suppose I should pay attention now."

"I'll see you tonight," he answered, his eyes sparkling. She could tell he really wanted to dance with her—and not just at some silly masquerade.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN: Well Met

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little excited about the meeting tonight after Tom's suggestion that they should have a masquerade. For one thing, she had really enjoyed it a few years ago when they'd had a Yule Ball, and a masquerade would be even more exciting because everyone could pretend to be whoever and whatever they wanted.

Muggle masquerades were exciting enough, but of course the Wizarding world just had to do them even better. Rather than just wearing a costume that represented the creature being portrayed, wizards actually tended to turn themselves into those creatures for the night, making for a very exciting evening, to say the least.

Of course, Hermione would rather go in the traditional domino and mask herself. She was already considering just what color she would want her ensemble to be, and she was leaning very much toward a nice shade of Slytherin green.

Though if Malfoy saw her wearing it, he would probably get some cork-brained notion that she'd worn it with him in mind. She had no idea what had set him off ever since the war was over, but for some reason he had been hot on her tail all year. It was getting annoying.

Hermione sighed deeply. It seemed like such a wonderful idea, if only Tom could be there to share it with her. She supposed she could bring along her compact, but it just wouldn't be the same thing. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to smell the scent of his skin and his cologne, and to taste his stolen kisses she was sure they would share.

As thoughts of dancing with Tom Riddle swirled through her head, leaving her breathless with unfulfilled desires, she headed into the dorm room she shared with the surly Slytherin Head Boy. No one else had arrived yet, so she headed for one of the couches to have a seat.

She could just see the look on Malfoy's face, if only Tom could be there. He would have somehow managed to get her out onto the dance floor, when a dark and dashing stranger would appear and cut in, whirling her out onto the dance floor as Malfoy just stood there and stared.

Hermione tried her best to ignore Malfoy as he joined her in their dorm room to wait for the prefects to arrive. She did her best to blank him out completely and continue her reverie, but unfortunately her resolve did not last long.

"Don't ignore me, Mudblood," Malfoy growled as he leaned close to her ear. "We both know that you're well aware I'm here."

"I thought I proved that I didn't have dirty blood, Malfoy," Hermione said, and Draco winced as he flexed his recently scarred hand. She tried to hide the smirk this action caused, but she was wholly unsuccessful.

Malfoy moved so that he leaned above her, one hand to either side of her head, his face just inches from her own. "You had no right to touch me, wench," he snarled, his face looking much like that of the fire breathing animal for which he was named.

"Someone needed to show you the truth," she answered with wide-eyed innocence.

Draco lifted one hand and pulled it back as if he was ready to strike her across her face, but he froze when they heard voices outside the painting that hid their entrance.

"Someday, someone is going to teach you to respect your superiors," he hissed at her, touching his nose to hers. "And I hope to Salazar himself it's me."

Draco returned to his seat and watched as the prefects all filed into the room and took seats wherever they could find them. While he seemed calm and collected, Hermione was leaning back into the cushions and taking deep, steadying breaths to slow down her heart. She swore if he would have hit her, she would have made him pay.

She felt completely exhausted now, and right this moment she dearly wanted to return to her room and just fall asleep, and maybe even never wake up again. Or, she amended, at least sleep until the night of the ball, confident that as in all good fairytales, her prince would come and save the day in the end. Of course, in this case, he would be a dark prince, but hey, that was okay, too.

Malfoy trod on her toes as he stood to call the meeting to order, and Hermione glared up at him. He just sneered before turning to the others. She tuned out most of what he had to say, because she didn't really need to hear it anyway. In her own little world she danced with Tom, and he was wearing the finest dress robes she'd ever seen.

Of course, he had escorted her to the ball on his arm, and all the other girls were completely jealous over her because she was with the most handsome man of them all. She did not hang on him, but stepped alongside him with confident elegance, and that made all the men wish they could have her, which they could not, because she belonged to Tom.

Her face flushed red as she imagined Tom taking her into one of the many alcoves, hidden only by a Silencing charm, and how he would take her into his arms and kiss her for an eternity there. And then, once the clock began to strike midnight, they would retreat together to her bedroom and make passionate love all night long.

Glancing down at the blank page on her notepad, Hermione tried to make herself focus on what Draco was saying. He saw her watching him out of the corner of his eye, and flexed his scarred hand a few times. Hermione rolled her eyes at him for being such a drama queen.

Finally Malfoy was done discussing rules and regulations, and other issues pertaining to patrolling and prefect duties, and he moved on to the main topic. "So, we have a few weeks left before the winter break, and I'm pretty sure everyone must have some ideas about the sort of entertainment we'd like to have for Yule," he said.

A murmur rippled around the room, and a few suggestions were called out, but then Hermione stood up beside Malfoy and said, "I think that it would be lovely for us to have a masquerade."

Almost everyone grinned and nodded their agreement, and an air of excitement filled the room as Hermione smiled and took her seat again. She watched as the others grinned and nodded and pushed each other about playfully, and shook her head at their childish antics. She hadn't thought the idea would receive even half the attention it did.

Still, she had to admit she was a little excited herself. The thrill of getting to be someone else for just one night was overshadowed only by the thought that perhaps Tom would figure out some way to attend, just to be with her. It would mean everything to her if he did, if she could actually touch him in the flesh!

"The masquerade is an excellent idea," Malfoy agreed enthusiastically. "And we could even have some kind of feast as well as the dance. But I think the entertainment might be best suited to the fourth years and above, and we should all agree upon a few ground rules, like no devouring prey or causing any other types of injuries to fellow students. Headmistress McGonagall would demand that stipulation anyway, if we didn't make it ourselves."

"True," piped in one of the other boys.

"All right, I will be assigning three different committees to get this thing planned," Malfoy decided. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill to take down everything he was about to say, which floated beside him as he continued. "We will need a decoration committee, a music and entertainment committee, and a food committee. I, of course, will be in charge of the Music and Entertainments. Granger can take charge of the decorations—and try to be tasteful about it, Granger, the last thing we need is a bunch of Gryffindor colors all over the place to the exclusion of the other houses—and lastly, we will need someone to do the food."

"I'll head that committee up," declared Hufflepuff's female prefect, Jane. Her male counterpart gave her hand an appreciative squeeze, and Hermione saw Malfoy flex his sore hand again in response.

"Very well, then," said Draco. "You lot can all sign up to the committee you like, and after that this meeting is adjourned. We can begin working on the project first thing tomorrow. We'll hold meetings for each committee in different places to cut down on the noise. I will post your locations and the list of committee members outside this dorm by tomorrow morning. That is all."

Hermione sighed with satisfaction as she headed up the stairs to her bedroom. Now, if only there were some way that her Prince could attend the ball.

Tom was not there when she reached her room, so Hermione took the opportunity to do a bit of research. She had spotted a spell in the Mirror Spells book that she had yet to try, which allowed one to actually take an object from the room the mirror was viewing. She looked curiously into her mirror at Tom's room and noticed that he had left his bottle of aftershave close enough for her to grab it.

"Pervenire in Speculum," she said briskly, then pulled the item through without any trouble. "Mmm, lovely. I bet it smells even better when it's on him!"

Then she put it back where she'd found it and plopped down on her bed as if nothing had happened, waiting as long as she possibly could before she drifted off to sleep. In her dreams, her dark prince smelled absolutely divine, and she slept with a smile on her face.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT: Longing For Your Touch

"Hermione?" came Tom's soft voice, sending little chills over her languid body as she opened her eyes later that night. "There's my girl," he smiled when she opened her eyes and looked into his.

Tom was leaning against the mirror, gazing at her with sparkling eyes. He had already shed most of his clothes, making her wonder how long he had been there.

"Where did you go?" she asked him sleepily as she crawled to the end of her bed and cast her legs off the side as she stretched. She could see his appreciative eyes as he watched her do so, and sprang off the bed so she, too, could touch the glass that stood as a barrier between them.

"Business," he answered cryptically. The way he said it, she was certain she'd rather not know more. She often had to remind herself that this gentle, sexy man had a dark side as well. But she had better things to think about as she gazed into his eyes.

"I wish you were really touching me, Hermione," Tom whispered as he traced her lips with a finger along the glass on his side. She closed her eyes as she kissed the spot he was touching lovingly. "Mione, what's your favorite color?" he suddenly asked, as if he were desperate to know.

Hermione smiled at him and said, "Well, it used to be pink, but anymore I would have to say it's a particular shade of stormy blue."

Tom laughed. "You always know just what to say to me, you know that?" he asked with a blush. "It's almost scary, if you think about it."

"What's your favorite color, Tom?" she asked.

"Well," he said, grinning. "Up until recently, I would have to pick a nice Slytherin green, but—" and here he raised his brows suggestively, "—more recently, I might have to select the certain pink shade of the part of you I still haven't gotten to see, maddeningly enough."

"What part, Tom?" she asked as she put her hand against the glass where his face was. He closed his eyes and pretended to nuzzle it.

"That sweet little part you never seem to uncover, love," he said, trying to catch a glimpse inside her undies with a suggestive smile.

"You want to see it?" she inquired playfully.

"Oh, yes," he said, and bent down onto his hands and knees so he could look up at her with an expectant air.

Hermione giggled.

"Take off your panties, Hermione," he whispered as he continued to watch. She slid them off slowly, then stood with her legs somewhat closed, her cheeks pinkening prettily. "Touch it, Hermione. I want to see your fingers there."

Hermione sat down with her back against the bedframe and spread open her legs so she could slide her fingers down to touch herself. She chuckled when he bent in closer with a huge grin, watching her as closely as possible. He pressed his nose against the glass of his mirror and his look grew hungrier.

"Put some of that lovely wetness on your nipples, sweetheart," he said. "Pretend it's my tongue, tasting you. Do you know how much I want to taste those pert nipples of yours, Hermione?"

"Yes!" she breathed as her eyes closed to mere slits. "I want you to, Tom, so much!"

Tom leaned back and took off his shorts, then took up a position similar to her own. "Mmm, so delectable," he told her as he began to stroke himself. "I want to see your finger go inside you, like it's mine," he added as his fingers moved up and down. "Yes, baby, just like that. Mmm, I can tell that thing is untouched, you know, the way that finger slid in. Put in another with it. Make it really wet for me."

"Ah!" she groaned when she'd done what he asked. "Tom, get your cock all wet for me, like I'm tasting you. I want to taste you, you know. I dream of tasting you."

Tom spit on his hand, and slathered it all over himself, casting her a wicked grin. "Mmm, your mouth is so nice on me, Mione," he told her as he smoothed his hand over himself again and again. "Play with your sweet clit while you're doing that, love. You'll like it a lot better."

With a smile, Hermione's other hand came down to do it, and she found out he definitely knew what he was talking about. "Oh, mercy, Tom! Thanks for the advice."

"My pleasure," he purred, still moving his hand as he surged forward onto his knees, steadying himself against the glass with his other hand. "Come up here, love. Let me taste your sweet mouth."

Hermione had to use her hands to position herself where he wanted her, but as soon as her mouth was plastered to the glass just on the other side of his own, she slid the two fingers back in and used her other hand to play with a nipple again.

"Hmm, she likes breast play," he teased, sliding down the glass to pretend he was licking the other nipple for her. "Do you know what I like, Hermione?"

"What?" she breathed hotly.

"I like your sweet little hole," he whispered, sliding down again so he was pretending to lick her clit.

"Get back up here, Tom," she pleaded. "I want to watch you come."

"You mean this thing?" he asked, pressing his swollen cock against the glass, rubbing it on the smooth surface so she could see the length of his shaft. Her fingers left her breast to trace it with a little groan. "You are so beautiful, Hermione. I want to come when you do."

Each one of them leaned a forehead against the thin glass that separated them from each other, gazing down at the questing, insistent hands of the other. Hermione was finding it very difficult to hold back now, and he could tell because she always made those little noises when she was near.

Tom groaned as a little wetness came out the tip of his cock, that clear fluid that always proceeded the real event. He rubbed it all over the tip , smearing the glass, and this was enough to set Hermione off big time. She had never come so hard in her life before, and her voice keened in release, making Tom come over and over against the glass. He left a rather large whitish mark there when he was done.

Looking at it, Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

"Make one for me, Mione," he challenged her. She slid her fingers back inside herself and wiped the juices right across from his own.

Then they both looked at each other and grinned. "Wonder if anyone would notice if we left those there?" said Tom wryly.

"Yeah, right, mister neat freak," she teased. "Like you even could."

"In this case," he said as he stood up and laid back on his bed, "I think I could."

#

The weeks that led up to the masquerade were some of the busiest, and the most frustrating, that Hermione could ever remember having. She worked diligently on the decorations, transforming the ball room into a winter wonderland. She had opted to use a blending of colors from all four houses, as well as lots of accents like holly and mistletoe, and even a huge Christmas tree near one of the huge windows so it could be enjoyed by all.

She told Tom everything now, all about her days, and things about her past, and even occasionally about his future, though she did try not to reveal to much of the last. She didn't want to be the cause of anything that he would eventually do.

But, this was the most frustrating part of all. She knew in her heart that she belonged to Tom, body and soul, but she could not see how they would ever be able to come together if their only interaction was through a few mirrors. It was driving her to the brink of insanity, just thinking about it.

Hermione had taken to studying the Mirror Spells book in depth, seeking a solution. She tried to create a portal to Tom's room from her own, but ended up in Malfoy's room instead. Of course, he was convinced she had gone there to be with him, and she'd had to vehemently deny it as she fended him off and returned to her own room.

"Damn," she breathed on the eve of the ball. "I really wanted him to come to the masquerade."

She sighed deeply as she thought about how sexy the object of her affections truly was, and then suddenly she froze. Object of her affections? Object? Hermione was so excited for Tom to return to his room she could barely contain herself. Could she be right? She hoped against hope that she was.

"Hey," said Tom as he came into view. "What is my sweet girl doing tonight? Sorry I was gone so long, prefect meeting."

Hermione came up to her mirror to receive his kiss, which had become a sort of habit they'd formed. Afterwards, though, she watched him with such excitement in her eyes that it made him look at her sharply.

"What are you up to, Miss Granger?" he wanted to know. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh, nothing," she answered, toying with her wand and trying not to laugh.

"Right," he said skeptically.

"Pervenire in Speculum," Hermione whispered on a breath filled with desire. Then she reached out and grabbed Tom by his tie, pulling him right through the mirror and into her arms.

"Mione!" he gasped, his head reeling from the experience as he took in the full impact of what she had just done. Why hadn't he ever thought of that? He eagerly returned the kiss she planted on his stunned lips, his tongue snaking out to touch hers. He felt like a man who had been out in the desert without water for weeks, and this beautiful girl was his only source.

Tom carried Hermione over to her bed and laid her right in the middle, falling on top of her hungrily.

"Oh, Tom!" she breathed as he pulled open her bathrobe, revealing the sweet, hot flesh beneath. "Yes, Tom, touch me!"

His hands were everywhere at once, and Hermione's explored him with equal fervor. He slid his fingers deep inside her mouth, letting her suckle them, then wiped their wetness on her clit, making her gasp as his tongue slid into her mouth at the same time.

"Sweet little wench," he whispered against her lips. "I'm going to take you to the masquerade, after all. And I'm going to make you wait till after to give you the grand prize."

"Oh!" she groaned, frustrated by his words. "You wouldn't!"

"Believe me, my darling, I would," he said as he kissed a path down her throat and proceeded to mark her there. "I'm a firm believer in pomp and circumstance."

"Will you kiss it?" she asked hopefully.

Tom gave her neck one last nip, and then positioned his head between her thighs, kissing each one before he delved in for the taste he craved. He did not let up until his little witch was screaming his name again and again, writhing in her first real taste of making love.

"Mmm, your turn," she said wickedly as she pushed him down into her mattress. Of course, he did not object at all.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE: Malfoy's Mirror

Tom's mind refused to shut down as he lay in bed beside Hermione a little while later. He could hear her shallow breaths as she slept contentedly beside him. He had one arm wrapped around her and the other one behind his head on a pillow as he stared up at the ceiling above.

It was hard to believe he was really there, that Hermione had actually pulled him right through the mirror and into the future. His heart was pounding with excitement at all the possibilities that were now available to him because of that one act. He could really have Hermione now, not just play at a relationship with her through a few mirrors, but finally, actually touch her! And best of all, he could have her here, in the future, if he wanted to.

Knowing that he could be in the future gave Tom a heady sense of renewed power. He had been somewhat upset to hear that he would eventually be defeated by a mere boy no older than he was now, but considering the extent of his own power at this age, it should not surprise him. And the Potter boy was a half-blood, just the same as he was. Could there be something special about the mixing of magical and Muggle blood after all? Was it, perhaps, a thing to be prized rather than abhorred? Gazing at his own Muggle certainly did make him hope so.

Tom was amazed at the direction his thoughts seemed to be going concerning this girl. If he kept on, he would end up with a wife and kids and a little house in the country with a white picket fence and a dog named Rover. No, he thought with a touch of amusement, he would never end up like that, not even if he and Hermione had ten kids in a row. It just wasn't in someone like him to settle down so completely.

Still, if he did intend to be in the future rather than the past, he was going to have to do something to make certain this future did not change because he left his past behind. He thought back on all the spells he had been reading about in that book he'd found, and sorely wished he could retrieve it. But to do that, he would have to get out of Hermione's bed, and he had no desire to do so. The two desires warred within him, but in the end he elected to stay by her side, just as he had known he would all along.

He could distinctly remember spotting a spell for duplicating a person using a mirror. That person would, of course, be a mirror image of the original, but most people didn't really pay a great deal of attention to that sort of thing, did they? Anyway, the copy could remain in the past, which would leave Tom free to pursue his future here as he saw fit. It was an absolutely brilliant idea, in his opinion.

Only, what sort of future did he want to have here? If he didn't want the white picket fence, and he didn't want to get himself killed by some upstart kid, what exactly was it that he did want? He had always hoped to overthrow the Ministry, an arrogant institution with so many rules and regulations that they worked against themselves on a constant basis. However, it was clear that a frontal assault had not been the way to go about it.

Hermione sighed in her sleep and snuggled into him. Tom smiled and brushed a few stray hairs away from her eyes. What would Hermione think if he tried to infiltrate the Ministry in some other way? What if he gathered his Death Eaters, as they were now called, and gave them a new set of plans? Stop worrying about blood status, we need a new strategy. We need to get people inside the Ministry and make it fall from within.

He imagined she'd be somewhat upset to think he would still be trying to overthrow the tyranny that was the Ministry. No one truly understood that his purpose was not wholly evil, or even wholly selfish. What he wanted was order. But not the pigeon-holed type of order enforced by the current regime. He wanted a different sort of order, an order that made sense. He'd always preferred the simplicity of the feudal system, but preferably without all the senseless battles to take each other's castles. He thought it would work better if each man was assigned his position and place, and then they all worked together to keep that place working efficiently.

But, if one wished to rule the world, they would have to consider everyone and everything in that world, not just the Wizarding World, but the Muggle World as well. He did not believe the two should be completely separate from each other, as they were now. Would it not work better if the wizards ruled over the Muggles, and they helped the wizards keep things efficient? After all, having grown up in the Muggle world as he had done until he was eleven Tom knew they were a very resilient breed. And some of them, like the girl at his side, were very powerful in their own right.

But, regardless of what would be done, Tom knew that he needed to get started doing it. One never knew how long these mirrors would keep cooperating. He wanted to get back to his own time, make the copy, and then leave all of that time behind to him. Kissing Hermione's lips softly, he rubbed her back and whispered, "I should probably go back, sweetheart. Go to the masquerade tomorrow. I have a few things to take care of before I get there. But I guarantee you that I will."

"Mmm," Hermione sighed sleepily. "No leaving without giving me another kiss."

Tom leaned down and kissed Hermione several times, then set her away from him resolutely. "See you tomorrow, my sweet."

"I can't wait," she whispered with a smile.

"Nor can I," he agreed, and then he turned and stepped back through the mirror, grabbed up the Mirror Spells book, and settled down at his desk to read.

#

Malfoy opened his eyes in the wee hours of the morning and glared at his mirror in disgust. It was glowing again, like it had done the last time when Granger had shown up in it looking so completely hot, and then had summarily cast him aside and left again. That little wench better not be back to do it again, or so help him this time she would not be leaving!

"Hello, Draco," said a decidedly masculine voice. It sounded just like the one from Hermione's compact. Draco nervously sat up in his bed to stare as a tall, intimidating young man stepped through the full-length glass and into his bedroom. "I trust I'm not disturbing you?"

"Who—who the hell are you?" Draco asked him as he went to reach for his wand, which he had placed on top of his dresser.

"Draco, don't be ridiculous," Tom scoffed. "You won't need your wand for this conversation. You would never win in a match with me if we did fight, for one thing. Have you not figured out yet who I am, young Malfoy? I was told you were a follower of mine at one time, so I assumed you must have at least half a brain to work with."

"Fol—follower?" Draco repeated, stunned. "You-you're the Dark Lord? But how can that be?"

"I have many ways of returning, Draco," he explained dismissively. "But never mind all that. I've come to you with a very specific mission in mind—one which I expect you to complete with no mistakes. Do I make myself clear on that point? I'm certain you know that I do not tolerate inadequacies well."

"Yes, my Lord, I know," he said, scrambling out of the bed to bow to him.

"Get up, Draco, don't be so tiresome," Tom said, patting his shoulder. "Now, this is what you must do for me. I wish to meet with my current followers in the Forbidden Forest on the Eve of the New Year. I will appear to them at midnight, so that we might devise a new plan to take over the Ministry. You must tell them this straightaway, so they can all have time to prepare for my arrival. Is that understood?"

"It is, my Lord," Draco agreed, bowing slightly again.

"I can see that you've worked out in your head that I am the one who was in Hermione's compact by the fear in your eyes," Tom commented at this point. "That is very good. I cannot tolerate stupidity and ineptitude. But then, you would not be the Head Boy if you were stupid, would you, Draco?"

"No, my Lord," he agreed, pleased by the compliment but still guarded about what Lord Voldemort might do to him because of the Mudblood. He didn't bother to wonder why his Lord had a preference for that tasty little bitch, since he'd developed one himself over the years, but one never knew if Voldemort's emotions had gotten involved in the matter. It took him a moment more to realize the Dark Lord was staring into his eyes, and yet another to look down in shame. He knew he'd heard his thoughts just then.

"You must put the Granger girl out of your mind, Draco," Tom said smoothly—too smoothly. "That little wench belongs to me, body and soul, and she always will. But, if you don't believe me, we could put it to the test."

"No, no," Draco said, holding up his hands to ward off the idea. "It's not at all necessary."

"Perhaps not," he chuckled. "But still, it would be entertaining to see what she does. Indulge me, Draco, won't you?"

"But my Lord," Draco pointed out. "How can I gather the followers if you get me killed?"

Tom hadn't laughed so hard in a long time, and Draco just stared at him in amazement. The older Voldemort must never have laughed before, by the look of him. It made him laugh even more.

"You will do this for me, Draco," he said more insistently. "Sometime before the masquerade will do. And if you actually succeed in your seduction, I'll kill you myself."

"Yes, my Lord," he said, bowing low again as the Dark Lord disappeared back into his mirror from whence he had come.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN: Unwanted Advances

Hermione was not particularly enjoying today's Care of Magical Creatures class. Hagrid had brought the entire class out to the stables to help muck about the place, cleaning up after several unicorns that were being kept there for the winter. She suspected the groundskeeper just didn't feel like doing all the work himself, but of course she didn't say so out loud.

Some of the Slytherins had broken off into a small group of their own, and Draco was among them. But when he noticed that Hermione was alone in one of the stalls, poking around with a pitch fork at the fresh hay she had brought in to cover the floor, he broke away from them and stepped inside with her.

"Hmm, this is cozy," he said with a suggestive grin as he leaned against the wall by her side.

Hermione glanced around, and then crinkled her nose at him and said, "If you say so."

"Well, it all depends on the company you keep whether or not you like a certain place or not," he pointed out, trying to put an arm around her shoulders.

Side-stepping him neatly, Hermione answered, "Yes, I quite agree."

"Come on, Hermione," Draco cajoled her. "I know you don't have anybody else, why don't you want to spend some time with me?"

"Because," she growled. "Because to you, that's all it would be. I don't want to simply spend time with someone, I want someone who needs a lot more from me than just a quick shag that they wouldn't even want to tell anyone about. I've got a lot more self-respect than that. Besides, how do you know I don't have someone? Maybe I do."

Draco tried to suppress an ironic laugh when he heard that statement. Did Hermione fancy she could just go about telling the world who she was with, and they would just say 'oh, how wonderful for you'? He had always thought she was a bit cork-brained, but that was taking it to the extreme, in his opinion.

"Who do you have, you silly girl?" Draco scoffed. "The only thing I've ever seen you give any sort of affection to was your talking mirror. Talking mirrors just plain don't have the right anatomy to get the job done."

"Draco, has it ever occurred to you that the only thing you have ever asked me is whether or not I wanted to shag?" Hermione pointed out. "Not 'how was your day' or 'what makes you happy' or 'what do you want to do after you graduate'?"

"Ok, fine," he grumbled. "What do you want to do after you graduate?"

"That's an excellent question," she said with a grin. "I was thinking about being a librarian."

Draco did a double-take when he heard that. "That figures," he commented with a slight sneer.

"This conversation is going nowhere, Draco," Hermione told him as she started moving around the hay again. "Why don't you go find somebody who actually wants your attentions, because I certainly don't?"

"Ok, Granger, what about you?" Draco snarled. "Have you ever once asked me what I want to do after I graduate?"

"No, because it's only obvious what you'll be doing," Hermione said resentfully. "You'll get a nice, cushy job in the Ministry compliments of your Daddy just as soon as the ink has dried on your diploma. Everyone knows that."

"Yes, well, being the Malfoy heir does have its perks," he agreed with a smile. "I'm going to get to live in the lap of luxury, while you're going to have to fight for every crumb. Which is just as it should be, since I am pure-blood and you are not."

"Bother your pure-blooded crap," Hermione practically shouted. "Your blood is no different than mine, as I have already proven in the past. Or do you need another demonstration?"

"That's quite all right," Draco said as he backed out of the stall and shut the gate tight. As he walked away he mumbled, "You can have the wench, my Lord. She's nothing like what I want for a wife, that's for sure. And as you can see, she certainly didn't respond favorably to my advances."

Draco's pocket emitted a scoffing snort, and he pulled the small piece of mirror out.

"What did you say, my Lord?" he asked as he looked at his Master's eyes glaring out at him.

"How did you expect her to react considering the manner of your approach?" Tom wanted to know. "You practically threw yourself at her in the middle of a dung heap. Have you no sense of romance whatsoever? The whole thing was deplorable."

"Well, it's not as if I really wanted to do it in the first place," Draco pointed out. "What do you want me to do it for anyway, if you have already claimed the wench for yourself?"

"I just wanted you to prove to yourself that she doesn't want you," Tom informed him. "Because believe me, Draco, if I ever catch you trying again, it will be the last thing you ever do. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," he said, then quickly slipped his mirror into his pocket again as Pansy Parkinson joined him.

"What were you doing in the stall with that filthy Mudblood just now, Draco?" she demanded hotly. "You can't seriously be interested in her when you could have me."

"It was nothing, Pansy, just Head Girl and Boy business," he said. "The masquerade is tonight, you know."

"Yes, and I was counting on you to ask me," she pouted. "I've turned down four other boys waiting, but you still didn't ask me."

"Oh, sorry," he said with a blush. "I had so many things on my mind, I completely forgot about getting myself a date tonight. Sure I'll take you, if you want me to."

"All right," she smiled. "I'll see you there."

"How pathetic," came Tom's voice from his pocket.

Draco pulled him out again. "Now what?"

"Do you think 'sure, I'll take you if you want me to' is in any way romantic?" Tom grumbled.

"What, now you're going to advise me on romancing other girls as well, my Lord?" Draco inquired, somewhat annoyed.

"Believe me, you could use it," Tom told him. "Don't you know that women love to be treated like the beautiful, sexy creatures they are? A simple look, and just the right touch, can make all the difference between a kiss or a swift kick in your arse. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

"Really? How many girls have you seduced?" Draco asked curiously.

"Draco, a true gentleman does not disclose such things," he answered stoically.

"Oy, since when are you a true gentleman?" he pointed out. "You're the bloody Dark Lord, aren't you? Can't get less gentlemanly than that."

"Just because I have done things that are evil in order to further my plans, does not mean I have to go about acting crude on a daily basis," Tom told him. "I suppose next you would have me letting my teeth go bad or forgetting to bathe for weeks on end or something, too? Or maybe you think I would be so rude as to leave my dirty clothes on the floor for someone else to pick up?"

"No offense, sir, but you're a bit loopy, aren't you?"

"Just because I'm on the other side of this mirror right now doesn't mean I won't remember this conversation when I am not, Draco," he said venomously. "All I was trying to point out is that just because one employs the dark arts as a means to an end, doesn't mean they can't treat their lady with tender loving care. And I intend to do just that."

"Granger's no lady," Draco scoffed. "That little witch was right beside the Potter boy, destroying your horcruxes. You should be punishing her, not coddling her."

"The horcruxes were a bad idea," Tom said. "I'm rather glad they are gone. I wish to seek alternative methods to extend my life, which may not require such a drastic price to obtain."

"You know, my Lord, I knew you right before you died, and you were nothing like this," Draco said. "I wonder what all you did that created the man you were last year."

"Well, I haven't done any of those things yet, so I really couldn't say," Tom told him. "But, if my plan goes off without a hitch, I personally will never have to do them. I'll be leaving it for my mirror image to deal with, while I come forward in time to start fresh."

"My Lord, is there anything else you wish for me to do for you?"

"Have you contacted my followers as I requested?" he asked.

"Yes, I have informed my father, and several others, of your upcoming return," he told him. "All will be in place by the time that night arrives."

"Very good, Draco," he said. "I am impressed. Well then, I suppose all you have to do now is get ready for the masquerade. It sounds like it will be great fun—and maybe you can practice being romantic on your date. I'm sure she would appreciate the effort."

Draco laughed. "Pansy, appreciate something? As if!"

"She might just surprise you, Draco," Tom said. "Why don't you start out by getting her a corsage? I'm sure she won't be expecting it, but she'll love it all the more as a result."

Draco chuckled, and said, "You're about the last person I ever would have envisioned giving me dating advice, did you know that?"

"Yes, I'm certain of that," he agreed with an appreciative chuckle of his own. With that, Draco put the mirror away again and finished the rest of his classes impatiently. He couldn't wait until tonight, just to see the look on Pansy's face. Sure, Voldemort was just trying to distract his attentions away from Hermione and thus remove a rival for her affections, but Draco was willing to concede that she would never have been his anyway. Some things were just not meant to be.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Masquerade

Hermione knew that it was selfish of her to take so long preparing for the masquerade that evening, but she just couldn't help herself. She wanted everything to be absolutely perfect tonight, because she knew how very special it would be later on. She couldn't help but remember the taste of Tom's lips, the feel of his hands caressing her—and she wanted more. Her wayward body thrummed with desire, making it that much more difficult to apply her make-up and put together what she wanted in her little handbag.

She was glad that Tom didn't return to his room while she prepared. She wanted to surprise him. She was also quite lucky, since she did not leave her own room until nearly seven. She hurried through the corridors to the ballroom, and stepped into the winter wonderland she had created with a satisfied smile. Everything was perfect.

Tom was not there, not that she had expected him to be. Though how she knew that for certain was a bit of a mystery, since everyone around her was in disguise. It didn't take long for Draco to appear by her side, dressed up as Salazar Slytherin himself. Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes as he approached.

"Are you coming to ask for a shag again, Draco?" she asked when he reached her side.

"Of course not," he told her. "But it would be remiss of me not to at least let you know that you look lovely this evening."

"Why are you being so nice?" she asked suspiciously.

"Can't a bloke be nice without an ulterior motive?" he asked. "But I did notice, though, that you seem to have come here alone. No date tonight?"

"He's supposed to get here later," Hermione explained. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to sample some of the buffet."

"Of course," said Draco, bowing gracefully as she walked away.

"That was weird," Hermione muttered. She got herself some food and settled down to eat it at the Gryffindor table. While she chewed absently, one of the fourth year boys came to sit down beside her.

"All alone on a night like this, Granger?" he inquired. "I would have thought you'd have men fighting over being your date."

"Thank you, Hobbs, but no, that is not the case," she said with a smile. "Only one, and he is running abominably late, I must say."

"There were some of us who wondered if you were going to show up on Malfoy's arm," Hobbs said with a chuckle.

"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction," Hermione commented..

"Since you appear to be finished eating, I wondered if you would care to dance?"

Hermione chuckled. "A princess dancing with a hobgoblin? That ought to be a sight."

The hobgoblin in question held his arm out so she could take it, and helped her to her feet. The pair of them stepped out among the dancers and joined them in their odd gyrations. She laughed merrily when the song sped up and the lead singer told everyone they should now act like they were hippogriffs.

"This is crazy!" she told Hobbs as they both flapped their arms around like they were wings. They couldn't stop laughing. Suddenly, the room grew silent, and Hermione turned to the band to see what had caused them to stop playing.

A handsome young man dressed all in black, and wearing a black mask to hide his face, was speaking to the lead singer, who nodded in agreement. The band struck up a waltz, and the man, who was a mystery to everyone else but Hermione, ambled slowly toward her.

Hobbs stood frozen in place as he watched. Even without knowing who he was, the younger Gryffindor instinctively realized the enigmatic figure was headed toward them, and he leaned nervously over to ask in her ear, "Is that your date?"

"Yes, it is," she said with a smile, never taking her eyes off of Tom as he finally arrived and took her hand in his.

"You are the most beautiful thing in this room, princess," he said huskily as he raised her hand to his lips.

"Thank you, good sir," she answered with a curtsey.

"I thank you for entertaining my lady during my absence, young man, but I'm sure you won't mind if I cut in," Tom said to Hobbs, who was more than willing to simply slink away without a word.

"May I have this dance, my beauty?" he asked Hermione then, and she saw the sparkle in his eyes.

"Indeed you may," she answered, and noticed that her own voice had become just as husky as his. He swept her into his arms and whirled her around the dance floor, which had become surprisingly bare of other dancers. Hermione glanced up and realized everyone had cleared the area for them, and stood watching from the sidelines.

"Didn't I tell you how stunning you are?" Tom teased her, and then the music suddenly turned again. They were playing The Tango.

Hermione turned to look up at Tom accusingly, and said, "Your idea, I suppose?"

"But of course," he said. Suddenly he held a rose stem in his teeth, and the deep red bud brushed her cheek softly as he pulled her up against him to the music. Hermione's heart beat faster as she moved with him, and the murmur of the watching crowd grew and eventually became cheers as the couple grew more bold.

Tom dipped her low, and then with an ardent kiss as he brought her up again he transferred the rose to her. Hermione gave a cheeky grin and took the lead, eventually dipping him and giving the rose back with an even more ardent kiss. Tom made a big show of fanning himself before continuing to dance. The whole room giggled, and then the dance ended and they all mutually returned to the floor.

"Drink!" Tom said as he wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders. The rose was in his hand, and she took it from him so she could hold it, and when she smelled it the perfume did funny things to her insides. "Here, love, save that for later," Tom suggested as he snapped his fingers and it disappeared.

"Hey, I wanted that," Hermione told him.

"Don't worry, it's in your room," he reassured her as they reached the punchbowl. "You don't think anyone spiked the pumpkin juice, do you?"

Hermione cast him a surprised look, and he grinned as he poured her a glass. She didn't sip hers until Tom sipped his first, which caused him to chuckle.

"It's safe, Hermione," he said, tipping her cup to her lips. Some of it spilled onto her chin, and he kissed the droplets away.

"Tom!" she gasped, blushing.

"Well, we didn't want it to get on your dress, did we?" he asked innocently. Then in her ear, he added, "I don't want to take it off of you till later."

Hermione's skin tingled wherever he touched, one hand on the small of her back and the other brushing her hair aside so she could hear the statement more clearly, and the biggest tingle of all surrounding the ear itself where his hot breath hit it. She had to suppress a moan, the sensation was so nice. Tom's eyes burned into hers with wicked delight. He was well aware what he was doing to her.

"Let's dance, my pretty pink princess," he teased her, drawing her out onto the floor with him. He didn't recognize the more modern music, but quickly picked up on the dance style by watching everyone gyrating around him. "This is crazy," he laughed. "What do they call this?"

"Rock and roll," she told him.

"Sounds kind of like a stampeding elephant butting heads with a grizzly," Tom teased. Hermione chuckled, and took his hands to draw him near.

"I need to go powder my nose," she said in his ear, and he squeezed both of her hands. "I won't be long."

"I'll be waiting," he answered with a smile that turned her knees to jelly.

When Hermione stepped back out of the stall she'd gone into, she was accosted by three very nosy girls.

"Where did you find him, Mione?" asked a girl she knew named Rose, and her two companions giggled. "You know, nobody was sure you'd even bring a date at all, you're such a recluse. But to show up with that sexy piece of man—and him with eyes only for you. You're the luckiest girl I know."

"Well, I—" Hermione tried to say.

"Does he have a brother?" asked one of her friends.

"No, he doesn't, he—"

"You two looked really serious," said the other friend.

"Well, yes, we're—"

"I'm so happy for you!" Rose shouted, giving Hermione a big hug. The other two wrapped their arms around the pair and all of them squealed with glee, including Hermione. After all, she'd never gotten to squeal with glee before, so why not? Tom was well worth a girlish squeal any day of the week.

"Okay, he's waiting for me," she announced then. "I've really got to go."

"Good luck, Mione," Rose said, patting her on the back. "That one's a real keeper."

Hermione almost laughed when she heard that, thinking of who they were talking about. Tom Riddle was not a man for just any average girl. She knew full well he could be moody, forceful, and violent, and that she had just not witnessed this younger version doing so yet. But still, her heart wanted what it wanted, didn't it?

She found Tom sitting with Draco Malfoy, of all people, and did not announce her presence right away.

"So, what happened to Parkinson, Malfoy?" he was saying.

"Well, I brought her the bloody flowers just like you told me, but she ended up being allergic to them," Malfoy complained. "Imagine that, being named Pansy and being totally allergic to flowers. Her face swelled up and everything. It was really gruesome."

"It would be, with that pug nose of hers," Hermione said sweetly as she started to massage Tom's shoulders. He leaned back into her and smiled. "So, I take it you've met the Head Boy?"

"Yes, I have," said Tom, pulling her arms around him so he could reach her lips. Hermione held herself back long enough for him to realize she wanted an explanation. After getting his kiss, which actually turned out to be several, he said, "After I frightened him away from your compact, I decided to mess with him some more, only he figured out the whole thing. So when I learned of his upcoming date with the Parkinson wench, I told him to get her flowers."

"Bad idea, that," Draco added grumpily. "Now I'm stuck at a dance without a date."

"Bad luck for you," Tom told him with a clap on the shoulder as he got up. "I'm about to take mine on a nice little walk."

"Are you?" Hermione inquired with a smile. She didn't need any more answer than the way his hand casually slid down and cupped her arse as he guided her straight towards one of the exits. As soon as they were out of sight of prying eyes, he stopped abruptly and guided them into a nice, cozy alcove.

Tom's lips crushed Hermione's with a fierce insistence that fired her blood to a fever pitch. She wanted him with a desperate madness, and she was more than willing to let him know about it. His fingers slid inside the neckline of her gown to find the hardened nipple underneath, and Hermione groaned into his mouth, her breaths coming in short gasps—when he even let her take them.

"Tell me, Mione," he whispered against her throat as he began to kiss a path down toward his fingers. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," she breathed.

"What part, sweetheart?" he asked as his tongue flayed at her exposed nipple.

"You know," she whispered, not quite able to say it.

"I want you to tell me," he said, sucking the nipple into his mouth.

"Tom!" she sobbed. "Tom, please take me back to my room. I want you inside of me."

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness," he said as he backed up and gave her a bow. They could barely keep their hands to themselves all the way there.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE: True Romance

Tom and Hermione had almost made it to the portrait entrance to her dorm when he stopped to pull her into his arms again. His kisses were so hot now that she would have melted right on the spot and given him anything he wanted just to keep them coming. He pulled back with an amused grin, and asked, "You're not allergic to flowers too, right?"

"What? No, I'm not," she answered, bemused by the question.

"That's good," he chuckled, and followed her in through the portrait and up the stairs leading to her bedroom. When they stepped inside, Hermione figured out why he'd asked. The whole room was filled with tall white candles surrounded by beautiful red roses, and as they stepped inside a soft music began to play.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped as she looked around. On the table beside the bed was a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket, and two crystal flutes with small silver serpents encircling the stems stood waiting beside it. There was also a silver dish with a cover on it.

"My Lady," said Tom with a gallant bow as he raised her hand to kiss the back of it, and then lead her to sit on the bed. He had covered it in rose petals, she saw with a delighted giggle. As she sat down he pulled off his mask, and then leaned down to take hers off as well. "Beautiful," he commented as he looked at her, and gave her a soft kiss before he sat down between her and the table.

After he poured them each a glass of the bubbling liquid, he lifted the lid off the dish to reveal strawberries underneath. He smiled as he placed her glass to her lips to give her a taste, and then fed her one of the berries afterwards. Then he sipped his own glass and ate a berry of his own.

"I hear this is supposed to have an aphrodisiac quality to it," he mentioned.

"Like we need one," Hermione scoffed in a husky voice. When Tom heard her, he set both of their glasses aside and proceeded to kiss her. His tongue slid out to open her mouth, and each of his hands cupped a breast as his thumbs ran over the silk fabric that covered her nipples.

Hermione's breathing got shorter and shorter until it came out in little gasps of pure pleasure. When she was good and hot, Tom laid her down on the bed so he was on top of her, still kissing and touching. Hermione's hands were not idle during all of this. She had been untucking his shirt and fiddling with his buttons, and now she slid the black garment off of him triumphantly.

She sucked in her breath as she looked at the gorgeous torso she uncovered. Those girls didn't know how right they were to call her lucky. She ran her tongue along his smooth chest and laved it around the darkened nipple, reveling in the flavor that was Tom. She could tell he had sweat a little while they were dancing, and she licked off the salty tang with a grin as their eyes met.

"I can think of a better use for that tongue," Tom mentioned wickedly as he straightened up to unbutton his fly. With an even bigger grin, Hermione grabbed the zipper with her teeth to pull it down for him, and then pounced on him, throwing him down onto the bed eagerly.

"Mmm, you're right," she purred as she slid his cock free of its hiding spot. "Much better."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Tom teased her, but then he groaned as she took him all the way down to the balls and back again several times in succession. "Better not do that, love, you'll have him bursting in no time if you keep on like that. He wants to come inside you."

Tom had to put Hermione away from him again just to stop her from her over-adventurous antics. She pouted a bit at first, but when he unzipped her gown and pulled it over her head, she decided she was too content with what he was doing to complain overmuch.

"You're so damned beautiful," he told her as he practically ripped her bra off next. When he would have pulled off her underwear next, he paused and took in the slinky things with an amused grin. "Where did you find these things?" he asked. They were Slytherin green satin, with black lace trim.

"Draco's room, at the beginning of the school year," she chuckled. "I had heard he went on a panty raid and decided to see what he came back with."

"That's terrible," Tom told her, trying not to laugh. "Do you realize these things could belong to any one of the girls in Slytherin house? Don't you ever wonder whose undies they are?"

"Not really," she said. "I never wore them till now, I just stole them to tick him off. Anyway, I magically cleaned them, so they're just mine now."

"Nope, they're mine now," he informed her with a grin. "Gotta have a souvenir of my own, you know."

Having said this, Tom slid the undies slowly down her hips, thighs, ankles, and finally off her feet. Then he held them up to his nose and smelled them. "Needs more," he teased her, and slid a finger into her very wet pussy, wiping her juices all over his prize.

He stood up then, setting them on the table, and then removing the rest of his own clothes. He sipped his drink again and set it back down before he crawled over the bed until he was over top of her again. Hermione pulled him down and kissed him, her tongue exploring his mouth this time. He groaned softly and laid on her more fully, so that she could feel how much he wanted her.

One of Tom's hands slid back down to her wet hole, and he plunged two fingers into the tight sheath he wanted to enter. He doubted she could be much more ready than she already was, knowing that no matter what he did he was about to hurt her. But he knew also that after the pain there would be infinite pleasure, and so he pulled away from her and grabbed one of the pillows.

"Lift your bum, babe," he said, and put the pillow under it when she did. She never took her eyes off his face, and those eyes were filled with such passion and such trust it did weird things to Tom's insides. He tried to remind himself that he was too sensible for something as silly as love, but as he slid into her he knew he was lying to himself. Being here, plunging into Hermione Granger for the first time—it was all about love. He knew it with a certainly that frightened him.

Hermione clung to him, holding back her sob of pain until she couldn't breathe, and then letting out her breath and biting into his neck instead. Tom groaned along with her when she did that, and the next thing he knew, the wench was making love to him, not even waiting for the pain to stop before she had wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in tighter.

He let her have her way, just reveling in the fact he had found someone who matched him, even in this. Hermione was so perfect, and the things she was doing now were bringing him too near the brink.

"Not yet, vixen," he breathed. "I want you with me."

He put a finger down between them and rubbed as she continued to writhe, and her moans of pleasure intensified. When he knew she was close, he started pumping into her, hard. Again and again their bodies collided as his finger worked its magic, and he felt the walls of her womanhood closing in around him, squeezing his orgasm right out of him. He couldn't believe the moan of pure, unadulterated lust that left his lips then, and thought perhaps it was louder even than her own.

"Hermione!" he whispered into her hair, totally amused. "You just ravaged me."

"Mmm, yes, I did," she answered on a purr. "And I have every intention of doing it again."

The very thought had him standing at attention again. Hermione rolled him onto his back and crawled on top of him, impaling herself. "Oh!" she practically screamed. "That's nice!"

"Here, try this," Tom suggested, bringing her legs up until her feet cushioned his backside, then turning her ankles inward slightly. When she moved again, he was so deep inside her that it set her off again already. She was coming the whole time as they moved together then, and it didn't take Tom very long to catch up.

Tom rolled them over while he was still inside her, and ravaged her this time. She was so wild and so wet that it seemed like they came more often than they continued, but neither of them was willing to stop. He was completely amazed that he was able to keep going so long, and when they finally did stop, she wouldn't let him out. Not that he minded. They fell asleep like that, twined together as one.

#

Hermione woke up when she heard Tom using the bathroom, and she stretched languidly in her bed. She wondered if he would stay with her tonight, or go to sleep in his own bed. She hoped he wouldn't leave; she enjoyed having his warmth beside her.

Tom stepped out and saw that her eyes were open. He stretched every muscle in his body before lazily crawling back in next to her. "Well, that was a good start, love. Care to try again?"

Hermione giggled. "Aren't you tired?" she asked.

"Are you?" he wanted to know.

"No, I feel—I feel very much alive at the moment," she admitted.

Tom kissed her as his hands began to roam again, and Hermione melted against him. She wanted the feel of him all over her, touching every part of her with every part of him. She wanted him so deep inside her that there could be no doubt that they were truly one being in that brief moment in time.

Time, she reflected. That's what this was, just a brief moment in time. Hell, the two of them were not even from the same moment in time, and that thought made her want him all the more. She wanted this to be the first of many moments for them, not just some brief encounter that had to end. If she could do it, she would spend every day forever in this man's arms.

Tom pressed Hermione's back into the mattress and slid inside her, and she clung to him for the eternity that was theirs. This little eternity of pleasure that she never wanted to let go of. Somehow, she vowed to herself, she would find a way for it to last.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Double Trouble

Tom didn't come back to his own time for over a day, but eventually he had to. After all, he still had things to do in the past before he could remain in the future forever. And right now, he was busily gathering necessary items to take care of one of the most important of them. If he didn't create a double of himself who would stay in the past, the whole plan would be ruined.

He took all of the things he needed to cast the mirror image spell with him to the Chamber of Secrets. It had been over a year now since he'd started treating the place like his own personal hideout. It made him feel more like an evil villain knowing he had a lair, but since his main goal was order more so than necessarily being evil, it didn't quite fit. One couldn't very well call oneself an "orderly villain", could they? No, villainy demanded chaos, it seemed.

In the middle of the huge hall of snake statues, Tom laid a man-sized mirror reflection-side up on the floor. Surrounding this he placed sixteen pillar candles even spaced, but left them unlit for the time being. On the glass itself he placed a change of clothes, one of his robes, a cloak, socks, shoes and underwear for the copy to put on when he was ready. Then he pulled out a few strands of his hair and put them on top of everything.

Tom stepped back and lit all the candles at the same time with magic. When they were all flaming nicely and the area filled with their golden glow, he spoke the words of the incantation from memory:

"Imitare me iam duo, te imitentur, nunc vero," he said, and the mirror began to glow as he passed his wand over it three times. "It is done."

Tom did not linger overlong to admire his handiwork. He had promised Hermione he wouldn't be gone more than a couple of hours when he'd crawled out of her bed that morning. Even though only three hours had gone by, it felt like forever since he'd held her in his arms. "Git," he told himself. "You've gone and fallen for her."

He picked up the spell book and brandished it in his hand, remembering what it had said about the spell he'd just cast. It would be about a week before his copy was ready, and until then this Tom would remain in the Chamber of Secrets, and he would be planning his exit strategy. It did not pain him one bit that he would be sending this copy of himself to his death, especially considering he'd be seventy when it occurred.

One thing that he had thought of, though, was that this clone would never meekly accept that he was a lamb that would be led to the slaughter eventually. Once he was fully formed, Tom intended to wipe away all memories of the mirror spells and the girl he would not get to have. Because if the blighter had any recollection of Hermione at all, he would do everything in his power to have her for his own. If it was him being left here knowing what he was missing out on, you could bet the world he wouldn't sit back and let it happen.

As Tom left the Chamber, he put an extra protection spell on it, even though he knew the place would never be found. One could never be too careful. With a blissful smile on his handsome face, he whistled tunelessly as he stepped out of the girl's bathroom and out into the empty halls of a school on winter break.

He had realized by now that he would have to put the book back in the restricted section, but he didn't want to do it quite yet. He had a whole week, after all, and Hermione was waiting for him. So he walked right past the library and continued on the way toward his dorm. He didn't notice Albus Dumbledore watching him from a vantage point just ahead of him in the hall until he was right on him.

"Hello, Tom," said the man, looking him over with his too-knowing eyes. He could probably see the remnants of the spell on him, damn the man. But at least he would not be able to guess at what that spell had been.

"Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore," he said politely, even though he'd rather hex him to oblivion.

"I haven't seen much of you in the past few weeks," he commented dryly. "I hope everything is all right? I noticed that you just passed up the library yet again. It's such a rare occurrence to see you do so once, but to witness the event on four different occasions now? You have me quite worried."

"Oh, no, sir, everything is fine," he said smoothly. "I've just been a bit preoccupied with—well, with normal teenaged pursuits, I suppose."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say your preoccupation had to do with a girl," Dumbledore said as he rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "But I haven't seen you keeping company with anyone in particular."

"I thought you hadn't seen me at all," Tom pointed out.

"True, very true," Dumbledore agreed. "Well, I can tell when I am keeping someone from their true purpose. Be off with you, Riddle, and try not to be so domineering if you hope to keep her."

"Her, sir?"

"The girl you've got under wraps, my boy," he said with a chuckle. "Go on now, and have fun."

Tom shook his head at the daft man, and continued on his way. He went through the portrait and headed straight for the stairs to his room, wondering what Hermione had done while he was gone. It didn't take him long to find out, however, because he found her sound asleep in his bed.

"Hermione?" he whispered against her lips, and when she sucked in her breath she also sucked in his tongue. The kiss was rather long, and rather ardent, and before he even knew what was happening Hermione had rolled him onto the bed and was rubbing her womanhood against him. "Woman, you're a horny beast, aren't you?"

"I can't help it," she told him. "I wanted to surprise you when you came in, and all I've been able to do since I laid on this bed was think of the many different ways I could have you in it. It's almost like the thing is bewitched or something."

"Mmm, no, probably just housing all my pent up frustrations from before we met," he teased her. "Even my bed has been longing for you to be real."

Hermione giggled as Tom flipped them back over so he could be on top. He rubbed against her in the same manner she'd just been rubbing against him, and Hermione let out a little moan of delight. Her fingers came down to undo his pants so they could venture within. Tom sat up and helped her, then pulled her into a sitting position as well.

As he watched, Hermione pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside, revealing the fact she hadn't bothered to put on a bra. This so excited Tom that he was on her in an instant, and their kisses grew hot and heavy. Breaths coming in short gasps, the pair laid down and savored each other for what seemed like hours. Their hands were everywhere—they just couldn't get enough of touching and tasting.

"Those jeans are in the way, my dear," Tom announced as he tried to unbutton her fly but met with great resistance.

"God, I hate it when they do that!" she complained, finally managing to free herself and unzip them. Tom chuckled as he slid them off of her. "You are altogether too pleased with yourself, sir," she scolded, trying not to smirk. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

"Oh, really?"

"Definitely," she grinned suggestively as she pushed him down underneath her and mounted him. "Ok, lesson one, mmm, these want you to play with them. Oh! Yes, like that. Keep doing that."

"How about if I do this?" he said, bending so he could take one of her nipples into his mouth as she kept up a steady rhythm, her feet curving under his hips to hold on so her hands could remain free. One hand she used to brace herself as she leaned into his mouth, and the other she threaded through his hair. It felt so good she thought she would come right then if she didn't slow down.

Tom didn't let her slow down. His other hand slid between them and found her clit, and she practically screamed his name as she exploded in sheer pleasure. Her voice practically echoed off the walls. Then he laid her down and entered her again, moving in slow, deliberate thrusts that kept her right on the brink of orgasm the entire time it took for him to decide he was done with her—which was to say, the next hour or so.

They went to sleep in each other's arms, uncaring of anything but their need for one another, Tom's eyelids fluttered open when he realized sun was streaming in the next morning, and Hermione was still beside him.

"Hey, beautiful, don't you think you should at least put in some kind of appearance in your own time?" he asked. "What do you normally do on a Saturday?"

"Well, I don't know what I would have been doing on this particular Saturday," she admitted. "I used to go home for the holidays before—well, before I couldn't go home anymore. This is my first school year I didn't have anywhere to go. But that's okay, you're a very nice diversion to keep my mind off of all that."

"Am I?" he chuckled. "But Hermione, I thought I was the one who caused it."

"Well, not you, precisely," she commented. "I mean, you haven't done any of that stuff yet, at least not from your perspective."

"But I did from yours," he said solemnly. "I wish it wasn't my fault you were hurt, but it is—"

"Hush, now," she told him, putting a finger over his lips. "Hearing apologies out of the mouth of the Dark Lord is just too creepy."

"Sorry," he said, then laughed again. "I mean, I have no remorse, and you must learn your place,"

"Quit it, it sounds stupid when you don't really mean it."

"Don't I?" he said with a mock growl. "I mean every word of it, Mione." He put one of his legs over hers and then straddled her with a grin. "See, this is your place, right here."

"Beneath you?" she inquired sweetly.

"No, joined to me," he answered as he entered her in one swift thrust, and the two stopped talking long enough to shag massively. They were both out of breath when they were finally done. Hermione wouldn't let him off of her. "What are you doing, love?"

"Keeping you forever," she informed him.

"Well, all right, but I think I might need a bit longer tether," he said lightly. His eye caught a glimpse of them in the mirror, and he pointed to it. "Look, Hermione, look at the two of us joined. I think we're both where we belong just now."

Hermione's eyes followed his. The scene in the mirror was wonderfully decadent, with the covers all mussed, and Tom's hair in total disarray, and her own hair flowing over his pillows in honey-brown waves. Their eyes met in the mirror, and they smiled.

"Let's stay like this all day," Hermione suggested, and that's exactly what they did.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Hogsmeade

Tom solicitously opened the door for Hermione and held it for her as the two ventured into the Hog's Head about a week later. He had not given much thought to the copy still growing in the Chamber of Secrets for the last few days, but he knew that he must soon return to the past to erase his memories before he woke up, and enact his plan.

Hermione took his hand and guided him to one of the dusty old tables near the back, and took a seat in the chair opposite his own. The two found it difficult not to touch in some way, so Tom took both her hands in his and his questing foot slid up and down her calf playfully.

"You know, I personally prefer the Hogsmeade of your time," Hermione told him as she covered his hand with hers. "There are so many more bookshops, and so much to read!"

"There's the same amount here, Hermione," Tom smirked as he reached out to take her hands in both of his. "It's just that you've read everything here already."

When this comment made Hermione pout slightly Tom couldn't help himself. He leaned across the table to kiss her lightly, nibbling on her bottom lip a bit before he moved away.

Aberforth was standing over top of them drying a glass. He was staring at Tom as if he had seen a ghost, with his jaw hanging slack. The glass slipped from his fingers and would have shattered completely if Tom had not reached out and caught it.

"Did you lose something?" he asked cheekily as he gave it back to the man.

"Only my sanity," Aberforth commented wryly as he took it from Tom's hand. "Forgive me, I just thought you looked like someone I know—well, knew before, really. May I take your orders?"

"Just a couple of butterbeers, please," Hermione said, her cheeks still pink from having been caught snogging in the Hog's Head. She was remembering that she'd told Harry she'd never get caught snogging there, and now here she was snogging the last person any of them would have ever thought she'd be with. She sighed dreamily as Aberforth walked away.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked her, trying not to laugh.

Hermione looked down. "I just—it's been a whole week since we finally got—well, _together _together, and," she leaned forward conspiratorially to whisper, "and I like it."

Tom smiled slightly as he looked down at the worn wooden table. He was just about to open his mouth to speak when he spotted the old man returning with their butterbeers. He was annoyed by the interruption, but even more annoyed when Aberforth stared at him again.

Hermione followed his eyes and grinned. She liked Aberforth Dumbledore; they had an understanding of sorts. She was grateful to him for saving her, Ron, and Harry from the very man that sat opposite her—_No, that's not him. Not yet at least—_and was probably the only reason the three of them were alive and had been triumphant in the war.

"Mr. Dumbledore, sir, why do you keep staring at my date?" Hermione asked to bring the man out of his reverie.

"Please, Miss Granger, call me Aberforth," he replied with a slight nod of his head and a friendly smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Then he looked over at Tom again. His brow shot up as full recognition dawned on him. "No. No, it can't be. It's impossible."

Aberforth stumbled backwards and turned to dash behind the counter. Hermione just stared after him with confusion painted on her face. Then it clicked and she turned back to face her companion. "What did you do?" she hissed.

"Nothing—yet," Tom replied as he shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in the chair.

"Yet?" she growled. "What do you mean, yet? What are you planning?"

"You should already know, right?" he smirked. "After all, I'm the one from the past. I don't know what's going on here, or what I'm going to end up doing later in life, but you do."

Hermione sighed heavily. She had been trying to avoid thoughts about what would happen to Tom—her Tom—in the future, and what role she would play in his life. She knew that Lord Voldemort had to do all the things he had done or this future would not be here, but she couldn't stand the thought of being any part of that. Yet if she saved him somehow, she wouldn't be here and couldn't save him. It was too maddening to think about.

Hermione sighed heavily and slumped in her chair, fiddling with the sleeve of her jumper and trying to think of lighter topics to discuss.

"So, just out of curiosity, how long have you known Draco Malfoy?" Tom asked out of the blue.

"Draco?" she said, looking back up at him. "Since we started school together, seven years ago."

"What do you think of him?" he inquired.

"I try not to," she answered, trying not to wrinkle her nose. "He's a bit of a prat, really. He's never had a kind word for me at all till just recently, when he figured out it would be a popularity boost if he shagged me."

"Yes, he sounds like the Malfoy I have to deal with, too," said Tom with a grimace.

"You had a fair bit of dealings with his father," she mentioned. "Or, you will have, I should say—I guess. Oh, I don't know, it's all so confusing. After all, even though he will be your closest follower, you don't even know Lucius Malfoy at all."

Tom was listening to her, of course, and he covered her hand with his own as she finished speaking, but his eyes, which were always taking in everything around him, were now trained on a young man standing near the door to the restroom. As he watched, this chubby teen stared right at him for a moment, and then did something he never would have expected. Almost casually, he pulled up on the sleevesof his left arm three times, and then quickly went in the door.

"Tom?" Hermione asked again. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, love," he said as he got to his feet, and caressed one of her cheeks. "I've got to go use the facilities. I'll be right back."

When Tom entered the bathroom he saw the lad making use of a urinal near the far wall. He stepped up to another one and did the same, taking care not to look at him until he had his pants zipped again. Though his companion did not offer the same courtesy, he noticed, but rather did a double-take at the sight of his impressive anatomy. Tom wondered if that bit of information would be spread through the ranks sometime as well.

"You—You're the Dark Lord, aren't you?" he asked timidly.

"I am Lord Voldemort," Tom agreed.

"N-nobody uses that name out loud, my Lord," he told him. "But if you're him, how come you're so young, and what are you doing hanging out with that Mudblood?"

"Do not call her that," he commanded as he began to circle him. He stopped abruptly and moved forward so that their noses were practically touching. "You're one of my followers? What's your name?"

"Goyle, sir," the young man replied shakily. "Gregory Goyle."

Tom nodded. The name was pure-blooded; he recognized it.

"And what, Goyle, have you heard of my upcoming return?"

Goyle fidgeted, and looked down at his feet. Tom did not like this response, so he grabbed him by his chubby cheeks and asked again. "What news?"

"I heard my father and some of the other Death Eaters talking, my Lord," he said slowly. "I heard them say that you'd made a copy of yourself. Which one are you, my Lord?"

"I am the original, of course," Tom hissed. "Why would you ask me that?"

"I—I cannot say, my Lord," he answered. "You might be lying to me."

"Lying?" he repeated incredulously. "What possible reason would I have to lie to a silly little Death Eater like you?"

"Because of the copy, sir," he blurted out, and then covered his mouth with his hands.

"I'll have it out of you, one way or another, you know," Tom told him in a velvety smooth voice. Then he grabbed Goyle's face and stared into his eyes, casting a silent Legilimens spell.

Goyle could not seem to move as he felt the pressure inside his skull. Tom's mind invaded his hungrily, and with great purpose. He saw the memories in his mind were all jumbled together. He could see flickers of the war, and of his own death, and frighteningly cruel things he'd done to some of his followers, and finally, he found it. A conversation this boy had overheard concerning his double.

"You know the rule," one man was saying to another. "Our fathers made it perfectly clear. No one is to speak about the double. No one can know how the copy tried to overthrow the original."

"But surely we should warn the real Voldemort of his copy's intentions?" said another man insistently. "Do we really want that crazed version set loose on the world again?"

"And how do we know the original is any better?" the first man asked. "He could be even worse."

"I, for one, believe he should be warned," said Goyle's father as he stepped forward. "I swore my oath to the real Voldemort, and it's him I owe my life to, not some cheap imitation. We must make certain who it is we are dealing with now."

Tom broke free of Goyle's mind and shook his head. "Do you mean to say my copy is going to try to come here, and leave me in the past?" he demanded hotly. "I'd better get back there and put a stop to it. You may go, Goyle, and tell no one we have spoken."

"Yes, my Lord," he agreed with a shaky bow, then turned and practically ran away.

When Tom returned to Hermione, their table had been invaded by two other girls. One was the red-head he had seen her with before, and the other was a pretty blonde who was currently in his seat. The two of them stared in shock as he walked up to them.

"Tom Riddle?" Ginny gasped, horrified. "Your new boyfriend is Tom Riddle?"

"Yes," said Hermione with a girlish blush. "He is."


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Wild Side

"Hermione, who are your lovely friends?" Tom asked smoothly as he took the chair beside her and wrapped an arm around her back.

"Hi, Tom, sorry about this," she said softly. "They showed up all of the sudden and I mentioned I was here with my boyfriend, and then you came out and it just happened."

"Oh, no, it's quite all right," he answered, but she could feel the tension rolling off of him. "I just worry because some people here might get the wrong idea about me, report me to the Ministry or something. But ladies, I must tell you, the Tom Riddle you knew does not yet exist for me. All that he did, all that he became, are his crimes, not mine. Why should I suffer punishment for them? Why should I, an innocent man, face their wrath when the perpetrator has already met his end?"

"But why are you here?" Ginny wanted to know. "How did you get here?"

"It was a purely selfish reason, I can assure you," he said with a smirk. "I caught a glimpse of the most beautiful woman who ever lived, and I had to have her for my own. And now, here she is by my side."

Hermione blushed and smiled, and the two girls sighed dreamily.

"Wow," said Luna. "I wish a man would come across time for me."

"But, my dears, you'll have to excuse me for now," he added as he stood to go. "I've a few loose ends that need tying up, as it were."

Hermione stood as well.

"My darling, I fear you would not wish to take part in this particular excursion," he told her as he kissed her cheek. "It could be a bit dangerous."

"What? Wait, Tom, what are you going to do?"

"That, my dear, is a secret," he said lightly. "But once I take care of this, I'm all yours. Why don't you stay here visiting your friends? I won't be gone long."

Hermione sighed as she stepped back, and Tom popped from view.

"You're not really going to just stay here, are you, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Of course she isn't," Luna said. "She's the most curious girl we know."

"Maybe we should go with you," Ginny suggested.

"Don't be silly," Hermione told them. "I'm simply going to return to my room and wait for him to come back. If Tom Riddle tells you something is dangerous, you can be pretty sure it is."

Of course, that was not what Hermione did. She Apparated to her room, all right, but then stepped straight through her mirror into Tom's. He wasn't in his room, naturally. Nothing overly dangerous was likely to be going on there, so Hermione cast a disillusionment charm on herself and quickly went out into the hall. If Tom was in some sort of danger she wanted to be there to help.

#

Tom went as quickly as possible into the girl's bathroom on the second floor and opened the sink-doorway to the Chamber below. He went to the main chamber and found, to his dismay, that the candle was extinguished, and the clothes and other items were all missing from the mirror. As quick as a flash he made the remnants of the spell disappear and headed back up to the castle to see if he could find—himself.

Hermione, having guessed Tom might go into the Chamber for some reason, was at the far end of the hall as he exited the bathroom. She kept a fair distance away as she followed him, knowing full well that he could sense her if she drew too near.

He had a look of desperation on his handsome face, and walked at a fast clip through the halls, obviously in search of something. Then he suddenly came upon a lone figure standing in the hall.

"Malfoy? What the devil are you doing here?" he asked, stalking up to the blond individual with an air of command reminiscent of the future Dark Lord Hermione had known.

"I've come for the meeting, of course," he answered, confused.

"What meeting?" Tom demanded.

"You called for all the Knights to come tonight, did you not?" he asked with a puzzled frown.

"I did not," Tom growled. "Come with me. We have an urgent matter to attend to."

"What is going on?" Abraxas demanded. "First we don't hear from you for over a week, and then you call a meeting you didn't even call? It's all very peculiar, my Lord."

"All shall be revealed in due time, Abraxas," he told him. "But you must trust in me now more than you ever have before. It is imperative that you do."

"As always, my Lord," said Abraxas with a slight bowing of the head as they walked quickly toward the exit. Once they'd gone outside the castle the two men crossed the grounds as quickly as possible, heading directly for the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione's legs were beginning to ache from practically running to keep up. She already knew where they were headed, for it was ancient history that the Knights used to meet in the Forbidden Forest, but she did not know in which part of it, so she could not afford to lose sight of them.

Tom and Abraxas took her into the very heart of the forest, where she could hear voices already raised in conversation. She grew confused when she thought she distinctly heard Tom's own voice, even though he was not speaking as far as she could tell.

"What on earth?" she muttered under her breath.

Abraxas and Tom broke into the clearing, and Hermione was not far behind them. All three spotted another Tom Riddle pausing in mid-sentence as they passed the line of the trees. Hermione scuttled back into them as quickly as possible, but sensed this new Tom's eyes upon her momentarily before he spoke again.

"Seize the imposter!" yelled the copy with a vindictive smirk on his lips.

"I am no imposter," said her Tom as he stepped forward. "I copied this bloke using a mirror spell, and I intend to use him for the purpose I had in mind whether he likes it or not."

"So you can pop off into the future with your little piece of Mudblood fluff?" he demanded hotly. "Leave me here while you get to go off with some silly, stupid girl? A silly girl who is with you even now?"

Tom's eyes went wide as the copy turned his wand slightly to the side and cast a spell, and Hermione was suddenly visible again. She screamed in surprise, and fell forward into the dirt. It got into her hair and eyes as she struggled to her feet and tried to run toward the real Tom. The copy cast again, and she felt some of the vines from the forest spring up and wrap around her. She began to panic when they very nearly covered her face as well.

"Tom!" she shouted in alarm.

He turned and cast a spell as well, to stop the vines from overtaking her completely, but kept most of his attention centered on the others.

"How weak and pathetic you are, falling in love with a girl!" the copy sneered.

"What's the matter with you?" Tom demanded. "Have you gone crazy or something? Hermione is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"And I'll bet you haven't even realized what an opportunity you've stumbled into, have you?" the copy sneered. "A whole new world to conquer, and you've been thinking with your pants. Unlike you, I've had time away from that bloody little girl, time to realize how weak she was making me. Oh, you can have the girl all right, but I'm the one who will be staying in the future, and you, insignificant little Tom, you can stay here with her.

"You're wrong!" Tom told him as he brandished his wand. "Hermione has made me stronger than you could ever be without her. And I'm not going to let you anywhere near that mirror, so you can forget it. In fact, I'm going to make certain you forget all about it entirely. Obliviate!"

The spell hit the copy right in his head, and he staggered forward, grabbing ahold of Hermione and holding his wand against her throat.

"Let go of her!"

"You're going to have to do better than that, Tom," he laughed. "Let's find out just how strong you really are when I threaten the life of your beloved angel. What do you think, you silly little Mudblood? Is your lover strong enough to save you, or shall I kill him and take you back to the future with me? After all, you seem to like naughty boys best."

Tom was watching Hermione's face, and he saw death seething from her eyes. She broke free of her captor's grasp and turned as if to take action.

"Hermione, don't!" Tom shouted, and sent her wand flying from her hand with a twirl of his own. "I need him alive."

"I've seen you naked, Mudblood," he reminded her with a smirk.

"My Tom would never act like you," she hissed. "What makes you so much more vile than him?"

"Because I'm better than him," he told her, pushing her down onto the ground and stepping on her chest. "Because the spell took out all my sweet bits and put in sour. Because a great ruler cares only for himself."

"A great ruler cares for every single person he rules," she told him before he put his foot on her mouth instead. Hermione spit out dirt as she turned her head aside.

"Stupefy!" shouted one of the Knights from behind him, and the copy stiffened and fell down right beside her.

Tom surged forward and took Hermione into his arms, but she was having none of it. She was so angry she wanted to scratch his eyes out. If the copy harbored such thoughts, how did she know how many of them lived in his head as well?

"Let me go!" she growled, but Tom wouldn't.

"Hermione, stop it," he insisted. "It's me—your own Tom. I'm not letting that one near you ever again. Abraxas, Avery, wipe his memory of the last few months and take him to the infirmary. I don't want him to know anything about what has happened this night, not now, not ever. When he awakens, tell him he suffered an accident and nothing more. I don't want anyone ever to know about this night."

"But what about you?" Abraxas wanted to know.

"I'll be doing just as the copy suggested," he said. "I'm taking my woman to the future, and that is where we'll stay."

"But my Lord, she's a Mudblood," he said, horrified.

"Yes, but she is my Mudblood," he answered, still holding on to the squirming girl. "No matter that's she a bit put out at the moment—I can certainly see to that."

"Bastard!" Hermione hissed, mostly because she knew he could.

"Come, Hermione, we have one last task to complete before we go," said Tom, and with that he dragged her back with him to the castle.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Library

"Why are we in the library?" Hermione complained. "What, first you copy yourself and he goes loony, and now you want to read a book?"

"Hush, Hermione," Tom chided her. "I have to put this Mirror Spells book back, if you're going to find it in the future, don't I?"

"How do you know if it'll be me that finds it?" she asked irritably.

"Because I'm going to make certain of it," he told her as he set it on the exact spot she picked it up from fifty years later. Grabbing her hand, he made her touch it as he cast his spell upon it, making certain that only she would be able to see the book sitting there. No one in the past or present but Hermione could even touch it afterwards until it was once again in her possession.

"What's the good of finding that book if it just leads to this?" Hermione growled hotly as she pulled her hand away so she could put it on her hip.

Tom rolled his eyes, saying, "Oh, here we go."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she wanted to know.

"It means, why the devil did you follow me in the first place when I told you it was dangerous?" he ground out.

"Well, I thought that if you were in danger that maybe you would need my help, but I guess I was wrong," she said with a sniff. "After all, since apparently I'm nothing but a little piece of Mudblood fluff, I suppose you never really wanted me in the first place."

Tom grasped Hermione's shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Don't you listen to him, Hermione. That thing, whatever it is, is not a true reflection of me. You've got to believe me, I don't feel that way about you."

"How can I believe anything you say?" she asked, on the verge of tears. "You're bloody Tom Riddle, aren't you?"

"Damn it, Hermione, you've got to believe me," he shouted, and pushed her up against the nearest table. She stumbled backwards against it, losing her balance, and Tom's lips crushed hers as he laid her back onto it, spreading open her legs so he could stand between them.

"Tom!" she gasped, but he muffled the cry with his tongue as their pelvises ground together. He grasped her hips and pulled her even tighter against him, and she moaned into his mouth.

"You can't listen to him, Hermione," he said against her lips as he tore at her blouse. "You can't, because you're no such thing! You're my other half—the part of me that's been missing all my life."

"Tom!" she sobbed, clinging to him for dear life. Somehow he'd undone his pants and hiked her skirt out of the way, and now he tore her underwear right off of her and plunged deep inside her. He pounded into her, desperately wanting her to feel how much passion he had to give.

"No one's ever made me feel like this," he insisted as he thrust harder still. "Can't you feel it, Mione? Can't you feel that?"

"Yes, Tom, yes!" she sobbed, grabbing his hands so she could hold them. The two of them came hard and at the same time, both practically screaming their release. Tom collapsed onto her belly, still inside her, breathing so hard he could barely catch his breath.

Hermione threaded her fingers into his hair, taking great pleasure in making a total mess of it. He laughed, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

"We've got to go," he told her then, and waved a wand over them both, mending their clothing so they would at least appear presentable when they went out into the hall. Grasping Hermione's hand, he dragged her along with him as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Why are we running, Tom?" she asked, all out of breath.

"I don't want to be seen," he said. "We need to get back to the future, now."

"Going somewhere, Tom?" asked Dumbledore as they sped right past him, unaware of his presence.

"No, sir, of course not," he said, stopping abruptly.

"And who have we here?" he inquired, looking Hermione over. "Is this the girl you've been so preoccupied over?"

"Yes, sir," he said with a slight blush.

"She's not from the school," he mentioned as he looked her over.

"No, sir, she's been home-schooled," he said, trying to look casual.

"And does this lovely young lady of whom you are so enamored have a name?" he inquired as he smiled at her.

"Her—Hermione, sir," she answered nervously. She was desperately trying to think of a suitable pure-blood last name from somewhere she would have been far enough from here to negate her having been sent here to learn, in a timeframe fifty years earlier than her own, and it was proving a challenge.

"Hermione…?" he prompted.

"Smith," she added uncertainly. Dumbledore did not look fooled, however, which made her fidget as he continued to gaze at her.

Tom took matters into his own hands, rather smoothly, by saying, "Professor, Hermione is a refugee of sorts. Her family was killed by Grindelwald recently, and she's come to live with her aunt in Hogsmeade. But sir, we were in a bit of a rush. I'm supposed to have her home by ten tonight, and—"

"Say no more, Tom, say no more," Dumbledore said with a wink. "It's nice meeting you, Miss Smith."

"You, too," Hermione answered as Tom started to pull her along again. She smiled back at the man as they went, and found that he was looking at her speculatively.

"I hope he doesn't remember me later," Hermione said worriedly. But then she remembered something the Headmaster had said to her one time that made her wonder.

She'd been feeling kind of down because Ron was dating Lavender Brown for the first time, and Dumbledore had happened upon her sitting up in the Astronomy tower staring up at the sky full of stars. She wasn't supposed to be out of bed at the time, but he didn't seem to care about that.

"Did you know, Miss Granger, that love doesn't always make sense?" he'd said.

"What do you mean, sir?" she asked, not looking away from the view. Dumbledore sat on a chair beside her with his hands behind his head and proceeded to stare upwards as well.

"Some people fall for the wrong person for all the right reasons," he said with a small smile. "People may try to tell them they are wrong, maybe even try to prevent it, but in the end only you can decide if it's right or wrong."

"I don't know what you mean, sir," she had answered after a few moments of reflection.

"No, but you will, someday," he had replied. And now she believed she did.

Tom was watching Hermione intently, and she realized that she had been standing still as she recalled the memory. With a small smile, she started moving again.

The pair of them went into his dorm together and headed up the stairs, intent on heading for his room. However, on the way there, Tom stopped and grabbed a bag out of the hall closet and threw a few things into it. Hermione did not bother to ask him what he thought he was doing.

In Tom's room, Hermione stood watching as he grabbed anything and everything that would give the copy evidence of the past two months. Tom paced nervously about looking for clues, and at the last he spotted one on his mirror that he hadn't thought of. She giggled at the memory as he wet his thumb and wiped away the dried-on stain he had been displaying there in all the time since they'd made love against the mirrors.

Tom looked over at her with a wicked smile, and Hermione blushed hotly. He drew her against him and kissed her forehead, and then the two of them stepped through the mirror and into New Year's Eve of 1998.

"Happy birthday to me," Tom whispered as he looked at her clock. Then, without any warning, he turned about and shattered Hermione's mirror into bits, making certain every particle of glass was reduced to nothing but dust.

Hermione had backed away from him as he did this, holding her hands over her ears and staring at him like he'd just lost his mind completely.

"There," he said when he was finished. "I won't be going back there anymore, and no one will be able to come here that way again, either. And, since I can't be certain you would stay here while I go to the Forbidden Forest in this time any more than you did before, I fear I will have to bring you with me tonight."

"Why, Tom?" she asked, confused.

"I've arranged a little meeting with some old friends," he explained cryptically. Then he reached over and grabbed the book of Mirror Spells off Hermione's desk before pulling her along with him out her door, down the stairs, and into the halls of Hogwarts yet again.

Hermione was not well pleased with him, for she knew the only old friends Tom Riddle could possibly have in this time were no friends to her. And, more importantly, she began to wonder what she had just unleashed on the world.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Unwelcome Guest

Tom clasped Hermione's hand just a bit tighter as the two of them began to walk into the Forbidden Forest under the light of the half-moon that shone above them. Crickets and frogs sang in the background—an unusual occurrence for this time of year. The oddness of it was not lost on either of the two travelers, who cast each other a slightly confused glance as they stepped further in.

"It is Voldemort!" hissed a voice from somewhere in the darkness. "He is young again, just as Draco told us."

"My Lord!" came a chorus of voices as masked Death Eaters emerged from their places of hiding. In all there were roughly thirty of them, almost exclusively men but for two or three stray women among them.

"But who is that with him?" growled one man. "Isn't that the little Mudblood who was always at Harry Potter's side? You must send her away, my Lord. Hermione Granger is one of your worst enemies."

"Hush!" Tom commanded as he stepped among them, his presence such that he seemed to tower above them all. Hermione's hand was still held tightly in his own, so that she was forced to come with him. She decided that she, too, would project an air of command, for if she would be by the side of this man, it would not do to show any sign of weakness in front of these people.

"But, my Lord!" insisted one of them, and Tom cast a wordless Crucio at him for his failure to comply.

"Have my followers suddenly forgotten how to follow orders in my absence?" he demanded hotly. "This is my birthday, you know, in more ways than one. Firstly because of my birth on this day originally, but now also because I have been reborn into this new time and place. And I will tell you here and now that what has gone before was not working. The old ways must die before the end of this century. Our world cannot move on into the future doing what it has been doing any longer."

"What do you mean, my Lord?"

"I have observed a disease among our kind, and it is this: inbreeding," he told them. "I once preached that blood purity was of the utmost importance, but I have since observed that this ideal is leading nowhere. Many of the strongest wizards and witches are not pure-blooded—myself included. There must be something to the fact that it was a half-blood boy who defeated the most powerful wizard in the world. And this witch, Muggle-born though she may be, is one of the most powerful I have seen."

Several of the men had begun to groan at his words, and when he pointed out the fact that Hermione was so very powerful, a murmur arose among the ranks.

"What is this? You dare to doubt my words?" Tom demanded.

"My Lord, if this witch is so very powerful, perhaps we will require proof of it," said one man boldly.

Tom flicked his wand at the wizard's mask, and it disintegrated in a puff of metallic smoke. The man behind the mask was not unknown to Hermione, though Tom could not possibly know him.

"Scabior?" she gasped. "I thought you were dead with the rest of your Snatchers."

"I Disapparated, love, just as soon as the bridge began to fall," he told her. The stubborn glint in his eyes did not dissipate, however, as he stared her coldly down.

"Do not address your Lady in such familiar tones," Tom told him as he aimed his wand at the man's throat.

"I'll not claim a Lady who cannot prove herself," he insisted. "If this little Mudblood is as powerful as you say, I would like to see it for myself. Only then will I believe your words—my Lord."

"Very well, then," Tom agreed, though it was clear that he rather felt like simply striking the man down where he stood. He gave Hermione's hand a little squeeze before he let her go, and bowed to her in an elaborate manner as he backed away. "Hermione, if you will?"

"How do you know I'm not still mad at you, Tom?" she challenged him as she stood her ground, slowly taking her wand out of the makeshift holster on her left hip.

"Hmm, that might make it a bit more fun," he told her with a somewhat sensual smile.

"Oh, really?" she inquired sweetly. "You won't think so in a few minutes."

"That's the spirit, my girl," he said, and lobbed a spell in her direction which she easily deflected. Not only did she deflect it, she turned it right back at him, which Tom had not expected her to do, so it hit him in the arm and made his elbow bleed. "Hey!" he gasped, glaring at her.

"Are you going to just stand there, or are we going to fight?" she challenged.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Tom inquired as he lobbed another spell, which she sidestepped neatly as she sent a stinging spell, hoping it would hit him right in the backside. "Ow!" he gasped when she was not far off the mark. "Oy, you really are mad."

"Mad? Why should I be mad?" she asked as she cast three more curses in quick succession. Tom only dodged two of them. "Why should it bother me that you used me just so you could come to the future?"

"Hermione! You know better than that!" he protested, lowering his wand as he spoke.

"Do I?" she asked, zapping his behind again.

"My Lord, you are not even trying," Scabior pointed out. "This is no test of skill, it's nothing more than a lover's spat."

"Very well, then," Tom said, becoming all business as he matched Hermione spell for spell. Some of them hit, but she was quick to mend or recover from every one of them. Each spell they lobbed became successively stronger until they were hurling spells the average wizard might have found much more difficult to deal with.

"Hey, Penelope, you really are good," said Scabior mockingly as the two continued. Hermione could tell he was simply trying to distract her. Rather than answer, she lobbed a stinging spell at his backside as well. Scabior gave a hoot of surprise and rubbed the sore spot, thinking better about adding any more commentary afterwards.

Then Hermione shouted, "Stupefy!" and was rather surprised when Tom went stiff and fell over.

"She got him!" gasped the collective crowd of Death Eaters, gaping at their unmoving Lord.

"I got him?" Hermione repeated, equally as stunned. "He's going to kill me!"

"Now there's an idea," said a big, burly Death Eater. "We could just kill her right now, while Lord Voldemort is indisposed."

"Are you crazy?" gasped another man in back. "He would kill us all."

Hermione watched as a tall man walked through the middle of the parting crowd and right up to her. She did not need him to remove his mask to know Lucius Malfoy. His detestable voice was quite familiar to her. Nevertheless, when he removed his mask she was somewhat surprised to see the dark circles that had been under his eyes when she'd last seen him were gone. She speculated that he'd had several months to heal since the Battle of Hogwarts, however, and thought no more about it.

"Lucius," she said as she looked up at him, keeping her face carefully neutral.

"Miss Granger," he answered as he stopped before her. "Draco tells me that you and the Dark Lord have become lovers."

"That is none of your business," she answered hotly.

"Calm down, my dear," he said so that only she could hear him. "I'm only trying to save your life."

"Why would you do that?" she demanded, though less vehemently than before.

"Let us say I wish to make amends," he said in smooth, aristocratic tones. Then he turned to face the others. "If the Dark Lord has chosen this girl for himself, who are we to second-guess his decision?"

"She's a bleedin' Mudblood, Malfoy!" shouted the elder Goyle as his son fidgeted at his side.

"Mudblood she may be," said Scabior as he stepped to the front to stand with Hermione and Lucius. "But, she has proven to be just as powerful as our Lord has said—if not more so. I for one will be proud to stand at her side."

Lucius stepped aside as his Lord got to his feet. Having shaken off the Stupefy spell, he had heard everything the men were saying, and chosen this moment to rise. He stepped past Lucius with an air of ownership as he took Hermione's hand in his own once again.

Blushing hotly, Hermione looked at her feet as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "My Lady," he whispered into her ear, and pulled her closer to his side. "Now, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was about to reveal my new plan. And I want you all to listen closely, because I don't care what my plan was before. To tell you the truth, I don't even know. We're going to overthrow the Ministry, but not with a frontal assault. Too long have Wizards lived in the shadow of their tyranny, unable to cast the spells they wish, unable to marry the spouse of their own choosing, unable to do anything without their grubby fingers in our way. But if we want to end their reign, we'll have to take them down from within."

"Here, here!" Lucius exclaimed. "As I have told you often enough, my Lord."

"No!" shouted Goyle hotly. "We have only ever wanted to destroy them, not become a part of them. I'll not stand idly by while this puppy masquerades as our Lord. This is not the same man whom we have followed thus far."

"The man you followed was merely a copy of myself, sir, and a poor one at that," Tom told him. "He made many decisions I never would have, I must say. But, make no mistake, my minions, when I tell you that I possess more power than he did as well. Cross me, and you will feel my wrath."

"I will have no part of this!" Goyle shouted angrily. "I'll not stand by as you invite the pure-bloods to breed with their inferiors, and take a passive path rather than the straightforward one we have always preferred. You are no Lord of mine!"

"Go, then," Tom told him. "Get out of here before I change my mind, and end you here and now. And anyone else who agrees with him, you had better leave as well. I have no room for doubters in Riddle mansion."

Tom stood watching as about ten men and one woman Apparated away. Everyone else watched him expectantly. He said nothing more, but instead leaned down and spoke into his Lady's ear.

"What about you, Mione?" he asked softly. "Will you leave me, too?"

Hermione felt a lump in her throat at the very thought. She could not speak, but she was able to shake her head. Tom laughed in relief, and held her close to him as everyone Apparated away around them, and he finally Apparated the two of them as well.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Riddle Mansion

Hermione looked around at the huge drawing room the group had Apparated into, and was momentarily confused as to their whereabouts. Racking her brain for the answer, her eyes wandered about until they fell upon a painting on the far wall. With a gasp of realization, she stared at what was almost a perfect likeness of the man still holding her hand.

"My father," Tom supplied as he followed the line of her sight. "This mansion passed to me on the day he died."

"You mean the day you killed him," she said absently as her eyes met his.

"Yes, on the day I killed him," he agreed. "But if you expect me to apologize for ridding the world of the monster who left my mother alone to die, and hoped that I would die along with her, I'm afraid I cannot accommodate you. Had he not flown at me in a rage, hoping to end my life, his own would not have been lost. So you see, I was well within my rights, killing him."

"I didn't know that," Hermione commented lightly as she stared into his eyes. "That he tried to kill you first, I mean."

"No, I don't suppose so," he agreed. "They would not have wished to humanize such a monster as myself by explaining my actions, would they? It's much easier to kill a monster than a man who fought in self-defense."

Hermione nodded, but still said little more beyond her first response. After a while, Tom turned his attention to the room full of Death Eaters, seeing signs of tiredness and uncertainty in all of them. He said, "I can assume there are plenty of rooms to house you all. Someone has done a fine job of getting the house ready, but now I sense that it is time for us all to sleep."

"My wife, Narcissa, has made all the necessary arrangements concerning accommodations," Lucius told Tom, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tom glanced at it, surprised, and the man added, "Forgive me, my Lord. For a moment I forgot that you do not remember I am your closest friend. I hope that over time, you will come to rely on me as your counterpart did. I am here to help in any way you require."

"Thank you, Lucius," Hermione answered for him. "I'm sure Tom appreciates the gesture."

"My Lord," he said, then bowed to her as well. "My Lady."

"Good night, Lucius," Tom added as the man stepped away.

"My Lord, do you know the way to your own rooms?" asked Narcissa as she bowed slightly by his elbow.

"Not exactly," he admitted.

"Pixie will show you the way, and provide you with anything you need," said the woman, and a small elf appeared beside them.

"This way, my Lord, my Lady," said the little creature in a sweet, feminine voice.

"Come, Hermione, I'm too tired to fight anymore tonight," Tom said tiredly when she did not immediately step forward when he did. "Let's just get some sleep."

Hermione nodded, and took the arm he offered. She couldn't help but lean tiredly into his side as they mounted the stairs and traversed to the far end of the long hallway they found there. In the bedroom, both of them sat on their bed tiredly, and then Tom pulled Hermione into his arms and laid them both down upon it, sighing deeply.

"We have so much planning to do," he whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair. Hermione nodded and grabbed his other hand so she could hold it.

"Go to sleep, Tom," she admonished him. "We can always plan tomorrow."

"Good night, my love," he said softly, and kissed the top of her head before he drifted off to sleep.

#

"So you're telling me that Hermione was at the Hog's Head with Tom Riddle three days ago, and she's been missing ever since, and I'm only just now hearing about it?" Harry Potter growled as he cast his young fiancée and accusing glance.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but he just seemed so bloody nice," Ginny said weakly.

"He was nice to you before, Ginny, right before he tried to kill you," Harry pointed out.

"But this was different," Ginny tried to explain. "He really seemed like he genuinely cared for Hermione. He even called her the most beautiful woman who ever lived, and said he crossed time just to be with her. It was so romantic!"

"I don't know what it is about Tom Riddle that always makes girls swoon," Harry complained as he laid back in his easy chair and put his hands behind his head. "You'd think he was some decadent piece of chocolate or something, to hear you all talk."

"Oh, Harry, don't be jealous," Ginny told him as she leaned over him and kissed him squarely on the mouth. "You know very well that I'm in love with you, no matter how green the grass looks from the other side. I'm just happy to see Hermione smiling for once."

"Hermione was smiling?" Harry asked. "You don't suppose he shagged her royal, do you?"

"I'm sure he did," Ginny chuckled.

Harry got a look on his face like he was imagining that, and then he pulled Ginny down on top of him. He asked, "Do you think he ever did this to her?" and proceeded to give her the hottest, wettest kiss they'd ever shared.

"Probably did that, too," she teased him.

"Oh, really?" asked Harry, and picked Ginny up to carry her over to the couch. "But, did he do this?"

The next few hours went by very pleasurably for Ginny. And Harry most definitely did not fall asleep.

#

Even though Hermione had told Tom to go to sleep, and he had so easily complied, she was having a much harder time doing so herself. As she laid in the unfamiliar but very comfortable bed, she could not help but wonder what would happen to her now that she'd chosen to come here.

Well, she certainly didn't expect Tom to send her back to school at the end of break, that much was certain. He wasn't going to send her away from his side, and if he tried to she wouldn't go anyway. Here in his arms was where she belonged—it always had been her entire life. And she liked it like that.

However, if he didn't intend for her to finish school, how would she be of any help toward his goal of trying to infiltrate the Ministry from within? Or maybe he thought she was supposed to just stay home and have babies or something? If he did, he'd better get that thought out of his head right quickly. She was more than willing to produce the babies, but staying home all day everyday instead of being useful was not something that sat well with her.

Wait, she was willing to have his babies? Yes, of course she was. More than that, she wanted them inside her, she wanted to birth them and watch them grow, see the light in their intelligent eyes, the light of knowing they were loved by both their parents, and that they would grow to become intelligent, productive people with high ideals and the know-how to pursue their dreams.

And what if Tom did somehow manage to take over the world? If he became the Emperor, would he start calling her his Empress then? Hermione almost laughed at the thought, but in all seriousness it was highly likely that he would. Talk about social obligation if that happened!

"Mione, what are you thinking about?" Tom whispered against her throat as he started administering kisses down the column of her throat.

"Babies," she chuckled. "I wondered how many we're likely to get, if we keep on like we have been."

"Oh, maybe a dozen or so," he teased her. By then he had reached the bottom of her neck and was working his way down her side, and he lifted her arm out of the way to gain better access."

"Ouch, I'd probably be huge after all that," Hermione complained. "And then you'd toss me out and get somebody younger and smaller."

"Never," he protested. "I'm going to marry you straight away."

"Marry me?" she gasped. "What a very normal thing to do."

Tom chuckled, and rolled her over so he could kiss her belly. "Yes, it is," he agreed. "That's what two people do when they love each other, isn't it? I mean, because I love you with all my heart, so naturally I hope you feel the same for me—"

"I do love you, Tom, so very much—" she answered, holding his head against her for a moment.

Tom surged up with a joyful smile plastered on his face. "You do?"

"No matter what you ever do, no matter where you go, I will always be by your side," she told him. "I want above all other things to be yours forever. I always have, and I always will."

"Hermione Granger, let's get married—tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she giggled, then groaned as he uncovered her nipple and suckled it.

"Mmm, yes, tomorrow," he insisted. "Right in front of the Minister and everybody."

"Did you happen to think through how insane that plan might be?" she inquired seriously.

"I'm not going to hide, Hermione," he told her. "I'm not the one who broke the law, not the one who terrorized the world. If I want my idea to work, I'm going to have to gain their trust. What better way than to walk right in the front door of the place to begin with?"

"That's so crazy, it just might work," she commented, though not with a great deal of conviction since he was doing an excellent job of distracting her. She spread her legs wide as he slid her panties down, and before she knew it he was deep inside her.

"Mmm, Mione, we need a mirror right there at the foot of the bed," he said as he moved within her. "How else are we going to look at ourselves joined as one?"

"We can feel it, my love," Hermione told him. "We can always feel it, no matter what."


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN: The Ministry

Hermione Granger stood in the hallway at the Ministry of Magic watching a nearby fireplace until her companion joined her. A woman was standing nearby and recognized her, and as she prepared to come over and talk to the famous witch, the awaited companion stepped out with a wry grin on his handsome face. The woman shrieked and ran away as fast as she could.

"What's with her?" said a man who was passing by, and then he saw Tom as well. "It's—it's—You-Know-Who!"

Tom and Hermione exchanged a look as he took her hand. People all around them were taking cover and running away, and screaming at the top of their lungs as the young couple walked calmly up the hallway, hand in hand. They headed straight for the Minister's office and walked boldly through the door.

"H—hello," said the receptionist, trying her best to remain serene. "How may I help you?"

"We'd like to have a word with the Minister," Tom explained with a friendly smile.

"You—you want to see the Minister? You?"

"Yes, me," he laughed. "I assure you, my business is legitimate, and you won't require security either."

"One moment, please," she answered, and sent a patronus into the other room right away. Another one arrived almost immediately in answer. She surreptitiously leaned away from them to listen to the response, and then with a nervous smile she said, "The Minister will see you right away, Mr.—um, I'm not sure what you want me to call you, sir."

"Mr. Riddle will do," he said. "Thank you, miss. Come, my love."

Tom took Hermione's hand in his and led her into the Minister's office as the receptionist gaped after them. Hermione cast her an apologetic smile and a half shrug.

Kingsley Shaklebolt stood up to greet the pair as they stepped inside and the door magically shut behind them. "Hermione, what can you be thinking to bring this man here?"

"Sir, don't lay into my fiancée like that," Tom told him. "I'm the one who brought her. I believe first, an explanation is in order. I'm quite certain you're wondering why I am here, and what sort of intentions I must have, all things considered."

"You've got that right," he agreed, sitting down again rather abruptly as he continued to stare.

"Well, it's quite an interesting story, really," Tom said with a blush. "You see, sir, while I was studying in the library back in my own time, I opened a most unusual book I found there. It was a fortune-telling book, you see, but with a most unusual effect. It said that if I went to the section on love and touched a certain spot, I could see my one true love. Well, imagine my surprise when I went and did it, to spy the most lovely creature who ever existed, only to find out she lived fifty-something years in the future. So I cast a spell on myself to travel forward in time, so I could be with her, only before I did so I first made a copy of myself to leave in the past so I would not have to return. I believe that was a mistake, considering what the blighter did once I was gone."

"You do have a penchant for understatement, young man," Kingsley told him as he covered his face in both his hands and began to rub his temples. "Would you care to get to the point now?"

"Well, it's quite simple, really," Tom said with a small chuckle. "I want to marry Hermione, and love in my inherited estate as is my right. I could not have known what my single action in the past would do to the Wizarding World for the last half a century, and I am not the man who committed the atrocities during that time. That man, I believe, has been punished by death, has he not?"

"Well, yes," Kingsley said slowly, giving him a dubious look. "But how do I know how much like him you are? You killed your own father—don't deny it—and created your diary horcrux by the time you reached this age."

"I killed my father in self-defense," Tom explained. "As for the horcrux, and all the rest, I believe them to be the actions of a misguided youth with too much time on his hands. Now that I know what path such things would lead me down, I would never dream of visiting such behavior again. I wish now only to become a productive member of society, find a job that would be suitable to my skills and have a family with my wife."

Kingsley shot a look over at Hermione. She could not miss the shocked quality within it.

"And you're in agreement with all this, Miss Granger?" he wanted to know.

"I am," she answered, smiling over at Tom lovingly. "This man here has been nothing but kind and gentle towards me since we have met, which was several months ago now."

"Where has he been staying for several months?" Kingsley asked sharply.

"Diagon Alley," Tom told him. "I took the liberty to get myself a room so I could be near Hermione and work out the details of my new life. During that time I also caught up with the events that occurred over the last fifty years, and I must tell you how shocked I was by what I found. Imagine what I felt like, discovering how much trouble my own selfish need to be with Hermione affected all of you. I don't suppose it would be of any use to apologize for it, but I feel I must do so, nonetheless."

"Mr. Riddle, I'm at a complete loss as to what you want me to do about all of this," Kingsley said somewhat helplessly.

"Well, two things at the moment," Tom said in a businesslike tone. "The two of us would like to marry right away, today in fact. I can see no point in waiting any longer. And, perhaps of equal importance, we'd like to take the NEWT tests to complete our schooling. Neither one of us would find gainful employment as drop-outs, don't you agree? Oh, and thirdly, I wondered if I could prevail upon you to hire me on here somewhere. That way you could keep an eye on me, and reassure yourself that I'm not up to my—well, I guess from your perspective, my old tricks, even though to date I haven't done any of them other than the two you made mention of."

Kingsley was gaping up at him now, unsure what to make of the commanding young man who seemed so able to make such well thought out decisions even in his youth. It was no wonder he was so able to charm so many people to his side, if this was the face he presented to the world. But at the same time, he knew that he could not blindly trust him simply because he sounded so believable.

"I—I suppose I can see no reason why not to meet these three requests, I suppose," he finally said. "But you must understand, if I hire you on, you would be given a job with very low-level security clearance. I'll have to keep your leash very short until you have proven you can be trusted."

"I expected nothing less," Tom said agreeably, and winked at Hermione, causing her to blush prettily and look down at her hands.

"Well, then, I suppose we can take care of one of the requests right now," said Kingsley as he, too, looked at the girl. "As you have both consented to enter into a marriage, I will bind you here and now. Are you sure you're ready, Hermione? You do know that if I bind you to him, the marriage cannot be ended with a simple divorce, like they do in the Muggle world. It would need a very complex spell to break this one."

"I would never wish to have it broken," Hermione told him proudly. "I have belonged to this man since the day I was born. I think I've always known it on some level or other, even when I first learned who he was. I always wondered why he fascinated me, and now I know. I can't explain it, sir, but it just is. I will be proud to become Hermione Riddle, and remain Hermione Riddle for the rest of my life."

"Well said, my darling," Tom told her as he took both her hands in his. "You may proceed, Minister."

Kingsley tied their hands together with light from his wand as he spoke, "This couple has made a vow to devote their lives one to the other, and I now bind them together as one. Tom Riddle, will you remain faithful to Hermione Granger heart and soul for as long as the two of you live?"

"I will," Tom said, squeezing Hermione's hands and smiling.

"Hermione Granger, will you remain faithful to Tom Riddle heart and soul for as long as the two of you live?"

"I will," she answered, her blush deepening further as her heart began to race. She was so happy that tears began to form in her eyes, and both of the men smiled when they noticed them.

"Then it is done," Kingsley said. "You are man and wife."

Tom pulled Hermione into his arms and kissed her soundly, causing Kingsley to shake his head. "You do know that's a Muggle tradition as well, do you not?"

Neither one of them answered as the kiss continued. Eventually Kingsley cleared his throat a few times, and Tom broke away with a laugh.

"Sorry, old man," he said as he pulled Hermione's back against his chest. "I came across time for this very moment, so I'm sure you can understand how significant it is to us."

"Indeed," he said. "Now, as to the matter of your education. I will contact Headmistress McGonagall as soon as possible to arrange for your testing. She may deem it necessary for you to each attend a class or two before granting you your diplomas, but as you are married you would, of course, not be required to live in the dorms. I'm sure private quarters could be arranged."

"And Riddle mansion?" Tom inquired.

"It is rightfully yours, as you say," he said reluctantly. "It was annexed to the Ministry upon the death of your—well, your other self, I guess you would call him—but as you did not commit any of the crimes the law allows that your property must be returned to you. However, I must insist that you house only persons in your employ in a domestic capacity there, preferably in the form of house elves, to belay the concerns of the populace that you might be building an army yet again."

"I understand your concerns, sir, but I must tell you I've opened my home to a few of the people who were displaced during the war thanks to my lack of foresight," he said. "I would like to get them on their feet again before I make them leave."

"Death Eaters?" Kingsley clarified.

"Some of them," he admitted. "But not anymore. I have told all of my guests that I do not agree with the idea of blood supremacy, and it will not be tolerated in my home."

"Wow," Kingsley said, shaking his head again. "Very well, they can remain for now. But I will be sending someone out to check on you periodically, just to make sure."

"Thank you, Minister, for giving me a chance to redeem myself," Tom said in his sincerest tones. "I won't make you regret it."


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Hermione Granger, you can't be serious!" Ginny gasped as she stood with her friend near the bathrooms in the Hog's Head a few days later.

"I told you, it's Hermione Riddle," she insisted, blushing slightly when her husband smiled over at her from where he stood talking to Harry Potter, of all people. She couldn't help but wonder what the two of them had found to talk about.

"So you're telling me that you married Tom Riddle? The Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort himself?"

"You don't have to put it like that, you know," Hermione grumbled as their two men rejoined them.

"Hey, Hermione, you didn't tell me Tom liked Quidditch," Harry complained as he arrived at her side.

"Oh, well, he didn't tell me that," she answered. "Since it's not quite as important to me as it is to you blokes, the topic didn't really come up."

"I'll bet I know what did," Ginny chuckled into her ear.

"What's that, dear?" Harry asked her sweetly.

"Oh, nothing, Harry, nothing at all," she answered innocently.

Harry grabbed her around her middle and started to nibble her ear.

"Say, listen, we could all go back to our house for dinner," Tom suggested, much to the surprise of Hermione's two friends. When he saw their expressions, he blushed slightly. "Unless you don't want to be seen with the notorious Dark Lord, of course."

"Tom, we're already standing with you in a very public place," Harry mentioned. "It would be sort of stupid to worry about going to your house to avoid being seen if they already saw us here, don't you think?"

"Sorry, I'm not used to being infamous yet," Tom chuckled as he drew his wife into his arms. "I didn't give much thought to anything but this little lady right here when I made my decision to come here."

"I can't get over how romantic that is," Ginny sighed, and cast Harry a look that clearly said she wished he'd be just a bit more romantic himself.

"Hey, Tom, you and Hermione need to have a huge row already, so my woman can see that you're just as human as the rest of us men," Harry told him. "You can't give women everything they want, you know. Otherwise they'll all get it into their heads that the rest of us would have to do it, too."

"Sorry, can't help you there," Tom answered as he gazed at Hermione with a secret smile. "I enjoy giving her what she wants way too much to give it up."

"Gods, you're disgusting," Harry scoffed good-naturedly. "First you're the most evil bloke I know, and now you're the nicest? Do you have to do everything in such extremes?"

"Maybe he's bipolar," Ginny suggested with a giggle.

"What is bipolar?" Tom asked uncertainly.

"It means you have a split personality," Harry said, shaking his head at his fiancée. "I guess it gives you mood swings and makes you either really happy and confident, or really sad and suicidal."

"Boy, that does sound pretty close to the mark," Tom answered with a look that said he intended to find out more about it. "So, what do you say? Our new house elf still needs a few cooking lessons, but the food is edible, and the company would be pleasant."

The two exchanged a look, and then Harry said, "I guess we'll go, then."

"Great!" said Tom enthusiastically. "Hermione tells me you grew up Muggle, too? Do you know any card games, Harry?"

"Tons of them," he said, and the four young people Apparated away together, leaving Aberforth Dumbledore staring at the place they'd just been standing, still looking like he'd just seen a ghost.

#

Kingsley Shacklebolt was still shaking his head when he received an owl from Headmistress McGonagall which was, in his opinion, long overdue. In a hesitant script, the woman started off by wondering if he had taken leave of his senses, and finished with permission to send the two young people to her at their earliest possible convenience.

"Minerva, what it must have cost you to agree," he whispered to himself as he went to retrieve parchment of his own.

_Tom and Hermione Riddle:_

_ I have received word from Minerva McGanagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, that you are to go to the school at your earliest possible convenience and settle the matter of your education. I trust that this meets your expectations, and I hope to hear that both of you passed with flying colors in the near future._

_ Kingsley Shacklebolt, Acting Minister of Magic_

Having written the missive and sent the waiting owl on his way, Kingsley decided he could really use a drink. And here he'd thought that life would get easier once the bloody war had ended.

#

"So, Hermione, what sort of plans have the two of you made?" Ginny inquired as they all sat around a table with a deck of cards shuffling itself as they talked. "I mean, you can't mean to just sit around your house all day doing nothing, can you? You're both much too adventurous for that."

"I'll have you know, my dear girl, that Hermione and I have been quite adventurous of late," Tom told her with a small smile, trying not to laugh and spoil the effect.

"I have no doubt of that, Riddle," she told him with a chuckle. "But one can only endure so much sex before they want to do other things as well."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he commented as he winked at his wife. Hermione turned crimson as she looked at her hands. "I rather thought that was the best part of being married."

"Tom, I must protest," Harry admonished him. "You have reduced our Hermione to sitting quietly and blushing profusely at the drop of the hat. For shame. This witch is one of the boldest, smartest people I know, and you've gone and—and domesticated her."

Tom laughed at this. "Oh, no, trust me. Our little Hermione is most assuredly not domesticated. And as to our plans, I will be taking a position at the Ministry so Kingsley Shaklebolt can keep an eye on me, and Hermione—well, I guess we're not sure just yet what she'll be doing, but she definitely wants to have a job, don't you, my dear."

"Of course," she told them all. "Someplace with books."

"Of course," Tom chuckled, and the rest of them all laughed merrily.

"If somebody had told me a year ago I'd be sitting about playing cards with Tom bloody Riddle and actually enjoying myself, I would have told them they were mad," Harry mentioned as he shook his head. "I'm glad to know you'll get to be happy this time around, old boy."

"Yes, now that you killed me," Tom said with a wry grin.

"And don't think for one minute I won't do it again, if you do anything like what you did before," Harry added, becoming more serious for the moment.

"I don't doubt you would try, in any case," Tom answered as his smile fell slightly.

"Harry, you've wounded my husband's pride, I think," Hermione said softly. "He's not used to backing down from a challenge, and that was mighty close to being one."

"Oh, sorry, Tom, just a bit of bravado."

"Yes, of course," he answered, though his smile was no longer reaching his eyes. "Perhaps I'm just growing tired. We've been at this for hours on end. I've no idea what time it is."

"About time to take my fiancée home," said Harry circumspectly, and after they all hugged each other the two took their leave.

"I can see why we were rivals," Tom commented as he rubbed his temples.

"What do you mean, my love?" Hermione inquired as she came to rub his shoulders as well.

"He does like to monopolize a conversation—as do I," Tom admitted as he leaned back against her.

"I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose that's true," she agreed. "Both of you were boy wonders in your respective timeframes, weren't you? I hope that doesn't mean you're going to take opposite sides again?"

"Difficult to say at this point, isn't it?" Tom pointed out. "I'm quite certain he wouldn't like to know our plans for the Ministry."

"The Ministry deserves to be taken down a notch or two, at the very least," Hermione said. "They have not changed with the times, as well you know, and if they cannot change then they will have to be made to change."

"You're beginning to sound more like me every day," he commented as he watched her.

"Oh, you! It's simply that I agree with your assessment, nothing more," she said as she kissed the top of his head. "Oh, there's an owl pecking at the window."

Tom used magic to let the bird in, and read Kingsley's letter.

"Well, love, looks like we're off to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"It's about time," Hermione said with a smile. "I was beginning to think McGonagall wouldn't take us."

"Well, enough about tomorrow," said Tom as he grasped Hermione's hand and brought it to his pounding heart. "I'm much more interested in tonight at the moment."

"Why is that?" asked Hermione as her heart began to pound as well.

"Because I distinctly remember you promising to make it up to me if I was nice to your friends," he pointed out as he drew her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "Now I'm wondering, just exactly what did you have in mind?"

"I found a nice mirror today while I was out shopping," she mentioned shyly.

"Did you, now?" he asked with a great deal of interest. "And where is this mirror now?"

"Oh, nowhere special," she teased him. "Just at the foot of our bed."

"Hmm, perhaps we should go have a look at it," he said nonchalantly.

"Yes, perhaps we should."

Tom Apparated them there before she could say another word, and Hermione found herself posing right in front of it. His hands snaked around from behind her, unbuttoning her blouse as he watched her face in the mirror.

Hermione's eyes were smoldering with red-hot desire as they gazed into the mirror at his, and it was all Tom could do to take his time as he reached the last of the buttons and slid the blouse slowly down her shoulders. Her little moan of pleasure was his undoing, and he quickly turned her around, lavishing her with kisses as his lips sought the pert nipples still hidden behind her bra.

"Oh, yes, Tom," she whispered. "Fuck me right against this mirror."

"Not a bad idea," he agreed, and he removed the rest of their clothes magically.

Hermione was hot, wet, and ready when he grasped her around her pert derriere and slammed right inside of her, making her moan with pleasure. They almost knocked the mirror over as they fell against it, but Tom used a spell to hold it steady. Faster and faster the two pounded into each other as the room filled with their ecstatic cries.

"Come for me, love," Tom said with some urgency, and ever willing, Hermione complied. His hot seed pumped into her, making her impassioned screams even more potent as he joined her with groans of his own. "Mmm, damn, we got a mark on the mirror already."

Hermione chuckled. "Better leave it there," she teased him, and Tom heartily agreed.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Goyle stood before about thirty fully decked out Death Eaters and surveyed them shrewdly. Because they were all wearing masks, only someone who knew each of them would know who had assembled, and that was just as it should be. They were, all of them, of the purest blood, and it put the man completely at his ease.

"Since we do not wish to serve the upstart who has the gall to call himself Lord Voldemort, we need a new leader—one who has not renounced the old ways as this puppy clearly has," Goyle shouted adamantly to the crowd. "But the question is, who here should we choose?"

"I have a suggestion," said a male voice as its owner stepped forward. "I would suggest we pick someone who has aided us within the Ministry for many years now. Delores Umbridge."

"A woman?" Goyle shouted in protest. "You would put all of our lives into the hands of a cursed female? What if the blasted creature has a mood swing during her moon and decides to kill every last one of us?"

"I assure you, Geoffrey, I most certainly would not," said the woman in question with her characteristic giggle as she stepped up beside him, front and center. "I must say, I'm very pleased to be considered. There are many changes I would like to see in the way things are done, both in the Ministry and outside it. I can only lament that I am no longer a member so that I could access the place as easily as before."

"Insufferable twit," Goyle growled. "Must you always laugh when you speak? It's completely annoying."

"I'll try to remember that in future," Delores sneered.

"Are there no other candidates, then?" Goyle demanded of the others, but no other voice was heard over their murmurs. "Blast it all, then let us vote on the matter. Those in favor?"

Almost every hand went up.

"Opposed?" he asked hopefully as he raised his own hand. Only three others joined him. "Well, that's that then. Let us adjourn the meeting and give our Lady a few days to put together some sort of plan."

"Thank you, Goyle," she said with a snide smile pasted on her lips.

"A word, Ms. Umbridge?" he said more quietly as the others departed.

"What is it?" she asked. "As you have said, I have a lot to do."

"I would like—I would wish that—blast it all, I want to join forces in this matter," he said. "Would you consider a merger?"

"What a vulgar Muggle word," she said as she began to realize what he meant. "If you are proposing marriage, at least have the decency to say so."

"Wasn't quite sure how you'd take it," he admitted. "But face it, I've got a lot of blunt, and you'll be needing it if you want to get this little venture off the ground."

"Ah, yes, a matter of convenience," she said as she folded her hands neatly and began to amble through the underbrush. "But if that is all you offer, I will expect you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Well, that's not much fun," Goyle hedged as he cast her a hopeful look. "I might be able to give you a little taste of what you've been missing all these years."

"How dare you insinuate that I—"

"Have you, then?" he interrupted her. "I always assumed you're so bitchy because you hadn't."

"Well, no, I haven't," she admitted. "That's something that's meant for marriage—I mean, for real marriages, not convenient ones."

Goyle chuckled. "But my dear, you have never been married."

"That's very true," she admitted with a hot blush.

"If you did not—participate—outside of marriage, you must have hoped to do so inside it," he pointed out. "And I would be perfectly willing to indulge you, should the need arise—"

"Enough!" she said, her voice a higher pitch than usual. "I do not wish to have this discussion. But as you have said, I do need your funds. If you will not give them any other way, I suppose I will have to accept your proposal—the proper one, not the other. I will expect you to behave yourself in a gentlemanly manner. After all, I will be their Lady, and it is my bidding they will listen to. Best you remember that."

"How can I forget?" Goyle growled as he took her hand in his and kissed the back before he Apparated away, leaving Delores standing alone with a pleased smirk on her lips.

#

"It is as you feared, my Lord," Lucius reported to Tom in the early hours of the morning using the bedroom floo. "Goyle gathered a large number of purebloods in the forest last night, and they all elected a new leader. She is not someone you will yourself remember, but I know her quite well enough to say she could be big trouble."

"They chose a woman?" he asked curiously. "I didn't think they'd do that. Who is she?"

"Hermione knows her," Lucius said, his fiery face nodding to her as she sat up to look over Tom's shoulder. "Delores Umbridge."

"They chose Umbridge for a leader?" Hermione gasped, feeling suddenly ill. "Oh, Tom, she is the worst Muggle-hater that ever lived, even worse than—well, worse than he was."

"Did they say what they mean to do?" Tom asked worriedly. "I do not want them to upset my own plans. They will need to be watched at all times, and I will need to know their every intention."

"Yes, my Lord, of course," Lucius agreed. "Everything shall be done as you command, as always."

"And what plans do they have now?"

"None as yet, Master," he said, and a coal popped right beside his nose, making him flinch. "It seems they gave their new lady a few days in which to plan."

"Yes, that would be wise," Tom conceded. "But I still think they will wish to strike while the iron is hot. I may be able to use any attack they launch to my advantage. Only think how much trust I would gain if I were to put them down when the strike. Kingsley would believe in my intentions much better if I saved his arse."

"Excellent, my Lord," Lucius said with a laugh. "I shall keep you informed."

#

Both Tom and Hermione stood before Minerva McGonagall placidly as she paced around them, looking the pair over with a critical eye.

"Well, Hermione, I must say I never expected to see you standing beside Tom Riddle, of all people," she finally commented. "And you Tom, you look just as I remember you from our school days. I never would have believed it. Miss Granger—I mean Mrs. Riddle—would you allow me a few moments alone with your husband? I wish to ascertain his intentions, and I fear I may not be able to trust anything he says in front of you, crafty devil that he is."

"We have no secrets, Professor, I can assure you," Hermione told her vehemently.

"Still, I wish you would indulge me," she insisted. "I shan't be long."

Tom whispered in her ear, "Go on, love, it's okay," and then kissed her before he let her go. Hermione stalked off, clearly annoyed, as the two watched.

"What are you up to, Tom? Breaking young girls' hearts again?" Minerva inquired the moment she was gone.

"What do you mean?" he asked, one brow arched as he looked the woman over. "You look surprisingly well after so many years, my old friend."

"Don't give me those puppydog eyes of yours, Tom Riddle," she admonished him. "Before I consent to this plan of yours, I want to be certain of your motives. I don't want you to hurt Hermione the way you once hurt me."

"Minerva, we both knew that summer was a fling, and nothing more," Tom reminded her. "How could it be more, when I was nothing but a stepping stone on your way to glory? You wanted to be the Minister of Magic one day, as I recall—and I also recall that you are the one who broke the whole thing off."

"Only because you and I were constantly bickering," she said. "But, be that as it may, I must still be concerned for my fellow Gryffindor in her hour of need—"

"The only thing that particular Gryffindor needs is me," he interjected.

"And I must insist you tell me why you have come here, and how Hermione plays into your plans."

"There's no ulterior motive, I can assure you," he said with a laugh. "The very first time I saw her, I knew that I must have Hermione for my own. Imagine my dismay when I learned that she was far into the future. Ever the resourceful one, I found a way to come here and marry the girl straightaway."

"So you really did come to the future just to be with her?" she clarified. "Wow, if I'd known you had such depths of feeling back then, I don't think I would have gotten rid of you quite so abruptly."

"Thanks a lot," Tom scoffed. "You, my dear Minerva, will never get to know the depths of my heart because they never belonged to you to begin with. It's sad, but true. I wasn't ready to love then, but I am more than ready here and now, with the woman of my dreams."

"I see," she said quietly.

"But what about you, Minerva?" he inquired. "Did you never find a man you could truly love?"

"I did find love eventually," she admitted, her eyes looking far away. "But as you may have guessed since I am still McGonagall, it was never meant to be. I suppose I shall die alone one day—but when I do, I'll do so as one of the most powerful witches who ever lived."

"Always the optimist, I see," he chuckled. "And now, I would like to bring back my wife and get on with all of this."

"Yes, of course," Minerva agreed, stepping to the door. "Hermione, would you come in, please? We've got to see about getting you two settled in. I've got a rigorous two weeks scheduled for you, and then three days testing after that."

"Yes, Professor," said Hermione as she stepped in again, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at them both. Whatever they had been discussing, she could not see it in either of their thoughts, and she gave up with an inward sigh. She clung to Tom's arm as much as possible for the rest of the conversation.


	22. Chapter 22

_Note from Robin: I noticed several of you commenting on the bipolar thing, so I fixed it. However, I thought I'd mention that back in 1998 most people were confused by the difference between "manic depression" or bipolar and "multi-personality disorder" or "split personality" which is now known as dissociative disorder, and also schizophrenia was lumped in there as well._

_To clarify, at the time most people thought they were all the same illness, so I was going for that mindset. I have personal experience with bipolar I, which is a chemical imbalance in the brain causing the neuro-receptors to misfire. It is characterized by euphoric highs, devastating lows, and the occasional "mixed episode" in which you get both jumbled together and tend to become enraged. I can assure you I know enough about it from my own difficulties when not medicated to write effectively on the topic._

_It is usually the mixed episode that causes homicidal tendencies in a bipolar individual. I'm letting you know this so that you won't be confused if I mention it again anywhere, as you all know by now I don't bring things up without a purpose…lol. Also, thanks for reading this story, Auralee and I are overwhelmed by the response!_

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tom and Hermione were comfortable ensconced in their bed deep in the heart of Hogwart's Slytherin wing. McGonagall had asked Hermione if she would be comfortable there, and the young woman had responded that she would be comfortable wherever Tom was, as her proper place was by his side.

The Slytherin himself was thinking about that as he watched his wife sleeping beside him. He still couldn't quite get over the fact that he was here, that he had a wife beside him, and that the Minister of Magic was willing to hire him directly as soon as he'd finished taking his N.E.W.T.s here.

He'd been to the library earlier in the day at Hermione's insistence, and sat reading a book about his double and all the things he'd done over the years. He couldn't help but wonder how many of those things had occurred because he had somehow shattered his other self's mind when he was created, and how many happened because he, himself, would have done them if given the chance. It was mind boggling trying to sort it all out, and he gave up on it in the end.

_It doesn't matter what he did before, _Tom told himself. _It's much more important what you do this time. More than likely, you're not getting a third chance if you muck it up this time._

Hermione stirred in his arms, and he glanced down to see that she was watching him. His heart thundered in his chest just to look at her—his beautiful angel, his little lioness, his extraordinary wife! His hand slid down her bare back and cupped her beautiful arse as her eyes went from inquisitive to carnal in a matter of seconds. Their lips met in a searing kiss, and then their tongues collided hotly as he pulled her upwards so he could kiss her more fully.

"Tom!" she gasped as his other hand found her breast and his fingers pinched the nipple. Their bodies seemed to melt right into each other, and his cock entered her with reckless need.

Hermione wrapped her legs up and around the back of his waist, pulling him in so deep he thought he would die, and they pounded together as never before. Her name left his lips with almost every thrust, and by the time they were finished his whole body was shaking with all the emotions he'd been holding in check since he had shattered his past.

He thought about what Potter had said the other day about that disease that made your emotions go to extremes, and figured if it was an issue he had, this would be a prime example. He doubted he could get much more euphoric than he was right now if he tried. However, since he couldn't imagine what would produce the other extreme anymore these days, perhaps it didn't matter.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked him as she gazed up into his eyes.

"Harry Potter, of all things," he answered with a chuckle. "I really did do a number on his family, didn't I?"

"You didn't do anything of the sort," she reminded him.

"But might I have done, if I hadn't come here and launched a raving lunatic on the masses," he pointed out. "I tell you, I'll have to live with everything that monster did my whole life, no matter that I didn't perpetrate the crimes myself. It will be difficult to get others to see me as anything but a monster."

"I don't see you that way, and I certainly knew the other guy," Hermione pointed out. "Besides, by the time he got brought back from the dead mixed with some sort of a snake, there wasn't much of you left in him at all."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," Tom grumbled.

Hermione sighed and laid her chin on his chest. "Are you just nervous because our last test is tomorrow?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "You and I both know I'll pass with flying colors. It's just that I have no idea what it's going to be like once I start at the Ministry. You know that I hate practically everything they stand for, and would love nothing more than to see their downfall. It's going to be very strange to become one of them instead."

Hermione chuckled. "Well, if you're going to spread subversion and descent, at least try to do it in a manner that doesn't let on just how subversive you really are," she pointed out. Tom pulled a face at her and shook his head, putting one hand behind his neck as he rubbed her back with the other.

"You know something, Mione? You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he told her. "You've actually taught me how to laugh at myself. I think that lesson was long overdue."

"You're probably right," she said with a yawn as she settled herself more comfortably in the crook of his arm. "Now get some sleep, Mr. Riddle, or you're going to end up with the worst grade ever. I know you wouldn't be able to deal with that too well. I wonder if 'Perfectionists Are Us' needs a spokesman."

"Ha, if they did, we'd probably compete for the job," he mentioned, and the two burst into fits of giggles over the thought.

"Maybe they could use more than one?" she suggested wryly, and Tom kissed her again just to shut her up.

#

"I don't know why I even bothered to set the timer, considering the students in question," said Minerva as both Tom and Hermione handed in their work at the same time well before the end of the session. "You two may as well go off to lunch while I grade these, and meet me back here for your results later today."

"Thank you, Professor," said Tom as he shook her hand. Hermione narrowed her eyes as they shared a glance that seemed more friendly than it should. She shook herself mentally, and reminded herself that they used to go to school together. Surely they had known each other in some way back then, though Hermione had no idea in what manner.

"Yes, thanks, Professor McGonagall," she added as she gave the woman a hug. "I believe I'm going to miss you."

"As I will miss you, my dear," she answered. "Make sure you keep that rascal in line. He can be quite a handful."

"I will," she said, feeling unaccountably jealous as she took her husband's arm.

In the hall, she stopped him abruptly. "Tom, I need to ask you something."

"What is it, love?" he asked as he turned to her with an indulgent smile.

"Were you and McGonagall ever lovers?"

Tom's expression fell as he looked at her dumbly for a moment. "Did she tell you that?" he asked curiously.

"No, I just feel it," Hermione admitted.

"She was my first time, Mione, and I was hers," he admitted softly. "You knew I'd been with other girls before you, why does it bother you?"

"I—I don't know. I can't help it, I can just feel it when you're around each other, like there's still some energy there that hasn't been resolved."

Tom laughed at this. "Trust me, my darling, that ended a long time ago, and I'm with you. I will never have a need for anyone else but you ever again. And I mean that most sincerely."

Hermione blushed hotly as he pulled her into his arms and proceeded to show her just how sincere he was. Even though they were out in the hall with students passing by, he was not the least bit chaste in his embrace, and Hermione's wayward body was more than willing to overlook the fact.

Minerva stepped out of her office and found them there, locked in each other's arms. "I say, didn't I provide a room for that, you two?" she chided.

"Sorry, Minerva," said Tom with a chuckle. "We'll just be going now."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione chimed in, and they walked off arm in arm as the older woman watched after them.

"He always was a good kisser," she commented with a shake of her head. Then she got a look in her eyes, the same wistful look she'd had the other day, and produced a Patronus straight away. "I need to see you right now," she said into it, and sent it on its way.

"What is it, Minerva?" asked Hagrid as he popped in a few moments later. He saw the tears collecting at the sides of her eyes and stepped forward to wipe at them with concern.

"It's nothing, Hagrid, I just felt a need to talk to someone who—well, who might understand," she said with a little smile. "It's been rather difficult having Tom Riddle about, as you might guess, but to see him young and strong and truly in love in a way we never were, it's a bit painful, I must admit."

"Is it Tom you're missing, or is it the old man?"

"I—I don't know what you mean," Minerva said circumspectly.

"Minerva, I may be a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of 'em," he said as he took her into a big bear hug. "You haven't been the same at all since Dumbledore died, and we both know it."

"That's preposterous, Hagrid," she scoffed. "The man was forty years older than me."

"And Hermione's husband is still wet behind the ears, and the two of you never got on from the very beginning," he pointed out. "We used to take bets on which one of you would kill the other first. Now, do you want to stand here and talk about a silly girlish crush that didn't even last a year, or do you want to talk about what's really bothering you?"

"And what might that be?" she inquired.

"The love that lasted a lifetime, perhaps?"

"I think I could use a butterbeer," she said on a sigh. "Will you come with me?"

"Course I will," he agreed. "I'm sure no one will even notice we're gone."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N (Robin): This took a while, we thought we were having a birth in the family but it ended up a funeral as well, so I'm sure you understand...**

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Hagrid chuckled wryly as he watched Minerva sip at the firewhiskey he had bought for her after her third butterbeer had not seemed to make her feel any better. "Come on, Nerva, you have to down it if you want it to work," he teased her.

"I'm not much of a drinker, Hagrid," she reminded him.

"It weren't always so, were it?" he answered with a grin.

"I thought you would have forgotten about that after all these years," she said, blushing.

"Who's going to forget Minerva McGonagall springing up in front of a gaggle of third years and dancing like there's no tomorrow?" Hagrid wanted to know. "And you know something? To me, you're as beautiful now as you were back then, and if you hadn't of been seeing that rascal of a Riddle just then, I would have snapped you up for myself in a heartbeat."

"Well, you've certainly downed enough firewhiskey for the both of us," said Minerva, though she couldn't help but giggle. "You do know that Dumbledore brought me to his office the next morning for a severe scolding. And Tom? Well, that was about the end of things for us—I told him that he was having a bad influence on me, and I had to think about the rest of my life. After all, they don't let discipline cases work at the Ministry, do they?"

Hagrid shook his head. "There were a lot of things happening back then, Nerva," he said as he grasped one of her hands in his. "But, there's something I've been wanting to ask you for a lot of years. Something I'll probably get hexed for even thinking, but—"

"Don't you dare ask me to dance for you again, Hagrid!" she teased him. "I don't think my hips can move like that anymore."

"And how are we doing back here?" asked Aberforth as he stepped up to the secluded table where the two sat across from each other giggling. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, sir, I think we had best be going," said Hagrid. "It wouldn't do for a Headmistress to do a table dance, now, would it?"

Raising a brow, Aberforth nodded his agreement even as he tried to shake the mental image from his mind. "I'll be bidding you good day, then," he said as he walked briskly away again.

"Hagrid, you're terrible!" Minerva chuckled.

"You didn't let me ask you, as usual," Hagrid mentioned.

"Fine, what do you want to ask?" she said with a raised brow.

"I wondered, Miss McGonagall, if you would consent to go on a real date with an old codger like me?"

"A real date?" she clarified. "As in?"

"As in I bring you flowers, we dance the night away, we make love till the wee hours of the morning, and you get all nervous about being late to work and people noticing—"

"And when exactly were we to have this 'real date'?" she asked with an indulgent smile.

"We could have it right now, if you like," he teased her. "It's only just after noon."

"Hagrid, aren't we too drunk to dance the night away?"

"Not at all, Nerva," he chuckled. "If I remember right, drinking makes it easier for you to dance. Besides, I think that old Dumbledore would love to see you happy for a change, wherever he might be."

"Him, again?" she scoffed. "You're determined to make me admit I loved the man, aren't you? Well fine, I did. Does that make you feel better?"

"No, but hopefully it makes you feel better, admitting it," he said. "So, what do you say? Will you do me the honor of spending some time with me?"

"Other than the three hours we just wasted on firewhiskey and small talk?" she clarified.

"Yes, other than that."

"Why not?" she said. "I'm not getting any younger, am I?"

"Nothing wrong with that," Hagrid said. "I like a woman with a bit of seasoning. Let's go."

#

"Did you hear what I just heard?" asked Hermione as she returned from the restroom of the Hog's Head. Tom looked up curiously, and she pointed out the rather cheerful couple just leaving from the corner of the room.

"What did you hear?" he inquired curiously.

"Hagrid just asked McGonagall out on a date," she said, trying not to laugh. Aberforth, having seen her return, brought the two their meals and a bit of gossip.

"Those two have been sitting in here for hours, getting more friendly by the minute," he said.

"Minerva and Hagrid?" Tom said with a wrinkled nose. "How very—interesting."

"Oh, now, Tom," Hermione chided him. "It's about time the woman cut loose a little. It's been years since she even thought of dating anyone."

"I wonder what set her off," he mumbled.

"Probably seeing us kissing in the hallway," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "That was quite a good kiss."

"Oh, now I'm disgusted all around," Aberforth grumbled. "All you people pairing off, and here I am stuck here all day to put up with it. It's enough to drive a man to drink—not that I do. I learned my lesson on that score long ago. You two enjoy your meal. And Hermione, no table dancing, if you please."

"Table dancing?" Hermione repeated in surprise.

"It's nothing, sweetheart, don't worry about it," Tom told her as he cast the retreating man a quelling glance. "Sometimes being from the past catches up to you."

"Yes, I suppose it would," she agreed, and the two ate their meal in companionable silence.

#

Dolores Umbridge was seated on a makeshift throne of sorts, with (Goyle) standing just behind it. The two of them watched as their group of followers assembled, and finally the woman cleared her throat and stood before the assembly of about one hundred people with a satisfied smirk.

"Greetings, my friends," she said as she clasped her hands together and began to pace about within the area chosen as a sort of stage. "It's so nice to see you all again. I have given a lot of thought to our dilemma over the past two weeks, even though I was also on my honeymoon. As some of you may know, (Goyle) and I performed a joining ceremony just last week. Together, we have decided the best course of action will have to be a direct assault. But, as you know, the Ministry is very strong. We will need to decide when and how to strike, if we are to succeed. Our goal will be to reform the government, placing only pureblooded wizards in control. Mudbloods are the scourge of our world, and they must be put in their place every bit as much as the Muggle parents they sprang from. Now, you all know that I have always preferred order in all things, so we will be taking things in stages. We need to know the current habits of every division, the guards of every wall, and the assignments of every wizard within that office. Without that knowledge, we may be eradicated before we even manage to breach the outer defenses. Among you, I see, are many Ministry workers, and to you I say welcome. With your help, we will make our world a better place for all true witches and wizards."

"Hear, hear!" they all shouted.

Dolores giggled as she returned to her seat. Her husband would arrange their followers into the necessary groups, and each group would work on a specific task. All would be orderly, just as it should be.

#

Bright and early the following morning Tom and Hermione went to see Professor McGonagall to receive their test results. The woman had bags under her eyes and looked very much like she was suffering from a severe hangover.

"Minerva, are you all right?" Tom asked in surprise.

"Yes, Mr. Riddle, I'm perfectly fine," she told him. "You'll be happy to know that you both scored one hundred percent, so you won't have to wonder which one did better. I'm sure that given both your penchants for being the best, that is probably a good thing."

"I hope you didn't give us both top score so we wouldn't bicker," Hermione teased her. "You're supposed to be our Professor, not our marriage counselor."

"Did you need one of those already?" she asked wryly.

"Of course not, and I doubt we ever shall," said Tom as he cast Hermione a rather carnal look.

"Marriage is not just about sex, Tom Riddle," Minerva admonished him. "I do believe I've told you that before."

"Summer flings are just about sex, though," he informed her. "Especially when both parties already know they'd never get on for the long haul."

"Yes, you are quite correct," she agreed.

"Should I leave you two alone?" asked Hermione pointedly.

"No, my darling, there is no need," Tom told her. "Minerva and I have nothing to say to each other that cannot be said in front of you. Isn't that right, Professor."

"Oh, definitely," she reassured her. "Your skin must be a lot thicker than mine, Hermione, dear. A whole lot thicker."

"So, I know Hermione is too polite to ask, but she's dying to know," said Tom with a grin. "How did your date with Hagrid go last night?"

Minerva's eyes popped open. "Very well, thank you, though I don't know how either of you would know about it."

"You might have done, if you weren't all liquored up when you left the Hog's Head yesterday," he chuckled. "We were seated front and center, having an early dinner."

"You were there?" she asked feebly. "I must have been a sight."

"I've seen worse," he said, chuckling.

"We'll have no more of that, if you please," she grumbled. "I haven't danced in years—until last night, that is."

"Hagrid got you to dance?" Tom asked, grinning even more. "Wait, how big is his table?"

"Not on the table, you oaf," she growled. "Now, if you're quite finished teasing me, you two can get back to London and out of my hair. You've no more need to hang about here."

"Oh, Professor, I really am going to miss you," said Hermione as she gave the woman a hug. "And, no doubt, so is Tom, but he's afraid if he says so I'll hex him but good."

"That might be worth the price of admission," she chuckled, and laughed outright when her jibe hit home. Tom looked positively grouchy.

"Come on, then, Tom," said Hermione, laughing as well. "You did start it, after all."

"Quite right," he conceded. "Well, we'll leave you to your duties then. Oh, and Minerva, if you have a hankering to table dance again, there's always the Great Hall. Imagine, a never-ending table!"

They all laughed merrily as the young couple headed for the door.

"How's the table at home, Hermione?" she inquired.

"She wouldn't know," Tom called over his shoulder. "I'm into mirrors these days."


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Tom Riddle stood waiting outside the door the Kingsley Shacklebolt's office wearing his nicest robes and a new pair of shoes as well. His hair was neat as a pin, and he smelled so nice Hermione had found it quite difficult to let him leave the house at all.

He smiled at the memory now, of telling her he'd dressed for success, to look his best to get the best job, not the best head job, but she'd grinned and proceeded to give it to him anyway. The thought of her sweet mouth as she'd teased him into submission had him hardening again, and he willed his thoughts into another direction. The last thing he needed was a raging hard on while he was trying to coerce Kingsley into giving him a good position within the Ministry.

When the door opened, Tom was quite surprised to see Lucius Malfoy step out along with the Minister. Kingsley seemed surprised as well to see Tom waiting for him there. He looked at the two men to gauge their reaction, and the two schooled their features, pretending they had not yet met.

"Ah, no doubt you must be a Malfoy," said Tom with an amused look.

Lucius raised his brow momentarily, and then relaxed into a smile as he stepped forward. "This may sound sort of strange to say, but you and I are actually friends, of a sort," he answered smoothly. "Well, I hope that we can be friends again, but this time for all the right reasons, if the Minister will allow?"

"That's an excellent idea," Kingsley said. "It gives me an idea, as a matter of fact. I've been of a mind to set up a committee to rehabilitate some of the witches and wizards who were—shall we say, damaged—by the insidious propaganda put out during the war. As you say that you no longer believe in the idea that blood purity is important, Riddle, I believe you'd be the perfect man for the job. I want you and Lucius here to convince the purist hold-outs to get off their high horses and step into modern times. In today's society, there's no room for such antiquated notions, and we welcome witches and wizards from all blood pools. If you two were to deliver that message, it might just stick."

"Wow!" Lucius said, his brow raised. "That's quite a tall order. Many of those people would rather hex us than listen to a word we had to say, Kingsley."

"As to that, you'd have my permission to hex them right back if they tried," Kingsley said. "You are Ministry officials, after all. But I need to be certain that you both mean what you are saying about your change of heart, though. Have you both truly renounced the idea that blood purity is of foremost importance?"

"I'm married to a Muggle," Tom pointed out, his brow raised slightly, as if that alone should be proof enough for the man.

Kingsley cast him a shrewd look, and then burst out laughing. "Yes, you are, aren't you. Can you imagine that, Lucius? The Dark Lord is married to a Muggle."

"I'm not the Dark Lord," Tom grumbled, eying them both. "Let's get that perfectly clear here and now. If I'm going to work with you, you've got to get it straight in your heads that I was never the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Tom, of course you weren't," Lucius placated him. "Though, to be fair, you're just as moody, it seems."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"But, as I was saying, I want to be certain that you mean what you say about changing your ways, so I intend to include a third member in your party," Kingsley insisted. "Someone who is as adamant about equality as you two once were about exclusivity. And no, Tom, I would not appoint your wife, for she would be easily swayed. The man I have in mind for the job is none other than the hero of the war himself—Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?" Lucius gasped. "You're going to put us with Harry Potter? That will be a sight to see."

"How so?" Tom asked. "It makes perfectly good sense to me. It's what he fought for, of course Harry would want to see all his dreams become a reality."

"Have you met Potter, then, Tom?" asked Kingsley curiously.

"Yes, of course," Tom said. "He's even been over to my home. He's one of my wife's dearest friends, sir. You didn't think I'd get away with escaping making that acquaintance, did you?"

"No, I suppose not," Kingsley chuckled. "Well then, I shall call him in at once, and we shall seal the deal."

#

"Ginny, my love, you're not going to believe this," said Harry later that day as he returned home from work. "I've got a new assignment."

"Really, Harry?" she asked as she kissed him on the cheek, trying not to get the flour from her face on his. Her face, hands, and apron were covered in the stuff as she turned back to add chocolate sauce into the concoction she was attempting to create.

"What are you trying to make besides a mess?" he asked with a laugh.

"Cookies, silly."

"The Muggle way?" he inquired with a chuckle.

"Yes, I thought I'd give it a go," she answered as she licked the spoon. "So, what's your assignment?"

"Oh, that!" Harry said, remembering what he'd been about to say. "You're never going to believe it. Kingsley just created a new division, the Rehabilitation of Supremacists Division, and he means to have me, Tom, and Lucius head it up."

"He what?"

"We're supposed to try to convince the buggers of the error in their thought processes, and teach them that in order for witches and wizards to thrive we must be willing to permit the mingling of magical blood with bloods of other sorts," said Harry with an ironic laugh.

"Does he actually believe they'll listen?" Ginny wanted to know.

"He thinks they might with Tom as the spokesman," Harry explained. "I think he's off his rocker, personally, but Tom said he'd give it a go, so I guess I'm in as well. Tom says he's going to point out the fact they both he and I are mixed, and we are the two most powerful wizards of our era. He even said he was going to point out the fact that his Muggle wife may well be more powerful than either one of us. I could just imagine how well that will sit with those high and mighty types!"

"He's likely to get himself hexed but good," Ginny mentioned. "He doesn't have his Death Eaters to back him up anymore."

"No, he doesn't," Harry agreed. "But he does have Lucius and I, and he's still the most powerful wizard of his time. I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to take him on and expect to win the battle."

"Not even you, dear?"

"I won last time over a technicality," Harry admitted. "He was attacking me with my own wand."

"You don't think you would have won, if he'd used his own wand?" Ginny asked.

"Well, it's hard to say, isn't it?" Harry said. "Besides, that was not the same person as this one. This one hasn't learnt all the spells that man knew. I have no idea what this Tom knows yet compared to that one. I don't think I'd want to try to find out, either. The other one killed me, and I don't have the Resurrection stone anymore."

"Good thing he's on your side now," Ginny said, smiling.

"Yeah," Harry answered, smiling back. "Really good thing."

#

"My Lady," said Narcissa Malfoy as she bowed to Hermione. "I've taken the liberty of arranging a small tea with several of the ladies for tomorrow afternoon, and I wanted to make certain you would be attending. It's a good idea to maintain good relations, for the sake of your Lord and husband, if you wish to keep his followers willing to remain loyal, don't you think?"

Hermione sighed as she turned away from her mirror to look up at the woman. She'd been trying to brush the tangles from her hair, but remained unsuccessful. Narcissa, seeing her dilemma, stepped forward and took the brush from her, attempting to help.

"You don't much care about his followers, I take it?" she inquired.

"I didn't bring him into the future to help him further his obsession with world domination, if that's what you're asking," she answered with a laugh. "Although I do agree with him about the Ministry being outdated, and in need of some serious change. But, you must understand, I was born Muggle, and have less of an idea about the rest of the Wizarding World and its entire body of government. Is the entire thing just as corrupt, or not?"

"Oh yes, my dear," Narcissa said. "The Ministry is by far the best of the breed, as far as the governments go. The rest of Europe is far worse. Of course, there is no real Wizarding government in America to speak of, it is still governed by the Ministry as well, never broke free when the colonies broke free of British rule, you see. So if he were to overthrow here, your husband would have gained that whole half of the world as well, and have to contend only with the four other governments of this region, which, I'm sorry to say, are a formidable force."

"Do you think those other governments would attack us if the Ministry were overthrown?"

"Undoubtedly, my dear," Narcissa told her. "It's only the strength of the Ministry itself that has kept them at bay this long. That, and the treaties between them."

"Treaties which would not exist between them and any new governing body," Hermione said, sighing. "I hope Tom has thought of these things."

"I'm sure he has, my dear," Narcissa said. "The old Lord often had dealings with ambassadors from the other governments before. It would, however, be a good idea for this young man to do the same if he intends to win them over at some point."

"I'll have to let him know about that," Hermione commented. "Thanks, Narcissa. I don't think my hair's ever looked that nice before."

"Don't mention it, my dear," Narcissa said. "I always like to be of help."


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Hermione was not expecting quite so many ladies to be at Narcissa Malfoy's tea party. There had to be at least forty women there if there were any, and they were all watching Hermione as though she were the latest fashion on the runway.

"You could have warned me it would be like this," Hermione said through gritted teeth as she kept a smile plastered on her face as she and Narcissa sat at their private table for two at the head of the large room.

"Would you have come if I did?" asked Narcissa with a pleasant smile as she neatly poured out their cups, dropping in two lumps into her cup. "Sugar?"

"Two, please," Hermione answered, "and a bit of cream."

She stirred absently as she looked around at the room filled with mostly Slytherin women, but she noticed a few of the faces from other Houses as well. All of them were purebloods, however. She felt a bit out of place among them.

"If we're to further Tom's new agenda, we're going to have to bring in some—new blood," Hermione mentioned, raising one of her brows delicately to get her point across.

"Yes, my dear, I do understand your concern," Narcissa agreed. "But perhaps we should do so in—slow degrees, at first. I would not wish to frighten these ladies off, or they might decide to join Delores and her new husband instead."

"Yes, I heard about that," Hermione said, trying not to smirk. "Can you imagine that wedding night?"

"Hermione, dear, don't be crass," she chided. "You never know, it may very well have been quite enjoyable."

Then the two of them both sipped at their tea, and simultaneously both sputtered on their laughter as they each could no longer hold in the laughter over the very notion of Umbridge and Goyle in coital bliss.

"Gross!" Hermione added as she wiped at her mouth with a napkin.

"Undoubtedly," Narcissa agreed. "Shall we mingle a bit, my dear? The ladies will wish to hear your views—on politics, not on Umbridge, mind."

Hermione giggled again. "Yes, of course," she answered. "Although they'd probably find the latter much more fun."

#

"So, what do you think, gentlemen, who do we tackle first, someone who's easy, or the toughest cookie to crumble?" asked Harry of his two companions as the three stood together in the doorway of the Hog's Head after enjoying a light lunch and some casual conversation about their new mission."

"Let's go over to stir up some trouble at the old Avery place," said Lucius with a hopeful grin.

"Avery?" asked Tom with interest. "Is he still about?"

"I believe it is his son, my L—I mean Tom," Lucius answered, almost bowing his head as well but stopping short of it.

Harry quirked a smile at the man. "Old habits die hard, yeah?"

"So it would seem," he agreed.

"Well then, let's go have a bit of fun, shall we?" Tom agreed.

"Just remember boys, keep frosty," Harry said. "No one there is going to be glad to see us."

"You've got that right," Lucius agreed, and then the three joined hands and Apparated away.

The three men pieced together just outside a rickety old structure that looked more like an ancient barn than the ancestral home of a prominent Wizarding family, but that was as it was meant to be. The insides of the structure were, of course, a much grander affair, to be sure. As the butler opened the door to let them inside and asked them to wait in the foyer, Harry looked around at the impressive chandelier and paintings on the walls.

Behind his back, Tom handed Lucius a small mirror and cast him a meaningful glance, which was returned, and then showed Lucius one of his own as well. Each of them started looking around surreptitiously for places to put them, and acted nonchalant any time Harry happened to look their way. Eventually Lucius magically hid his in the wall near the front door, but Tom held onto his for the time being.

The butler returned shortly and led the trio to the parlor, where a somewhat displeased Avery sat waiting for them. "What do you three want?" he barked irritably as they entered the room. He neither stood nor bothered to offer them a seat. While Lucius and Harry stepped into the center of the room, Tom casually ambled toward the fireplace to warm himself, and took the opportunity to plant his mirror into the wall while he was there.

"Nothing much," he said as he stood there, not looking at the man. "The Minister has asked us to go around and talk to all the supremacists about the error of their ways, and as it seems I was a former instigator of that ideology, I've come along to let you know I am no longer a supporter of it." At this, Tom turned to look the man in the eye, his brow raised in challenge. "As I am certain you are already aware."

"Yes, I was made well aware of the fact," he said with a sneer. "I don't care much for turncoats myself."

"But surely you must understand that when a situation warrants it, change is inevitable," Tom insisted. "If we do not embrace new blood now, there will be no wizards at all in future. You must accept the truth of it, Avery. We are a dying breed if you do not."

"I'll accept nothing of the sort," he insisted, surging forward so their noses were touching as he glared hotly into Tom's eyes. "You're lying. You wanted that little piece of Muggle fluff to wife, so you turned traitor to us so you could have her. I'm not listening to another word you have to say. And you, Lucius, how could you take his side in this? You make me sick! So afraid of going back to Azkaban, were you? You're the worst kind of traitor there is, one who betrays just to save his own worthless hide."

"I did it to save my son," Lucius said proudly. "I didn't want him to make the same mistakes I had made, to live the same lies I had lived. The same lies that you are still living even now. But it's not too late, Avery, you can escape the lies, too. Renounce the supremacist way of life, and discover the truth. Let go of all your senseless hate. It's killing you inside, even as it was killing me."

"No!" he shouted. "No, but if you do not leave, I'll be killing you. I want you all to leave, now! Leave, and never return. Especially you, Potter. Never return to this place, or I shall kill you with my bare hands, Ministry official or not!"

"Are you threatening us, Avery?" Tom asked in a cool tone that made the man pause in mid-tirade. He recognized that tone, even though the man using it was far younger than the one he remembered. The blood chilled in his veins as he looked into his eyes.

"N—no, sir," he stammered, backing away. "Of course not, my—my Lord?"

"It's Officer Riddle, you silly man," Tom said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "And we will be returning here once a month to check in on you, Avery. To make sure you are not breaking the law. Ministry orders."

"Of course, sir—Officer Riddle, sir," he said, falling into the chair behind him.

"Good day to you, Avery," said Harry as he and the others headed back toward the door as one, and Apparated away at exactly the same time, just as if they'd rehearsed the thing.

Avery rubbed his jaw as he watched them go, then stepped over to his fireplace and threw in a bit of floo powder. "Oi, Goyle, I just had me an interesting visit. You may want to hear about this."

#

"Hermione? Sweetheart?" Tom called as he popped into the house later that day. She looked up from her book and smiled, ready for the kiss she knew she was going to get. "What did the doctor say?" he asked hopefully as he sat on the couch beside her and pulled her into his lap.

"He said I may as well not bother looking for long term employment just yet, because I'm going to be busy for the next several months bringing another Riddle into the world," she teased him. "What a scary thought."

"Be nice, woman!" he said, swatting her backside and kissing her at the same time. "I love you so much!"

"I love you too, Tom," she said happily. "I can't wait to get all huge and bitchy and make you go get me ice cream at all hours of the night—"

"Ha!" he laughed. "I think you're getting bitchy already, by the sound of it. How was your tea party?"

"Not as boring as I thought it would be," she admitted, earning a smug look in response. "Yes, you told me so on both counts. You know everything, just like you said, and I owe you ten million kisses. So if I owe you that many, I'd better get started, don't you think?"

Tom laughed at her. "Love, that many kisses will take you our entire lives to administer, but if we go upstairs to get started, you might appease me for the time being."

"Before dinner, you naughty boy?"

"I believe, my dear wife, that it has been well established that I have a penchant for being a naughty boy," he answered with a droll little smile on his handsome face.

Hermione giggled, and said, "Yes, I suppose it has."


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Dolores found her husband snoring on the sofa when she popped into their new house that evening. She had been doing a bit of shopping with the money he had given her, and she was feeling decidedly satisfied with her purchases. Humming tunelessly, she padded past him to set a new cat-shaped vase on the mantel, and then she magically lit a fire in the cold fireplace before she moved onward toward the kitchen as her parcel floated along behind her.

Goyle opened one eye experimentally to see if she was gone before rolling over to take another pull from a flask he had hidden under one of the cushions of the sofa. He smacked his lips with contentment and settled onto the pillow again.

"I saw that," Dolores said in a sing-song voice as she continued humming in the other room.

Pulling a face, Goyle put his hands under his head and stared up at the ceiling until she came into view above him. Then he plastered on a smile to hide his frustration, and he reached up and tried to take ahold of her hand.

"Goyle, you git, why are you forever trying to touch me?" she asked with a shake of her head, half exasperated and half amused.

"Because I mean to seduce you, my dear," he said. "What's the point in having a wife you can't even bed? That's like going to a battle and never taking out your wand. Where's the fun in that?"

"You know you agreed to—"

"Yes, but that was then, and this is now," he said as he sat up and gave her a sly look. "If you intend to deal with devils, woman, you've got to learn to think the way they do. I'm a barmy git, to be sure, but I'm as sly as they come. Do you really think I meant it when I told you I'd be good? I'm a man, aren't I? That alone should make you know better. Now, you could do one of two things about it, if you ask me. Either give over and let me ravish you, or spend a lot of your nights finding new and inventive ways to keep me at bay. Which one's it going to be?"

Blushing hotly, Dolores tried to reclaim her hand, which she realized he had finally gotten ahold of. "We don't have time for such nonsense," she blustered, not looking at him as he held her hand fast and used it to pull her onto the couch beside him. "We've got to figure out how to get inside the Ministry. Have you contacted the committees about meeting tomorrow night as I instructed?"

"Of course I did, you daft woman," he scoffed. "But that means there's nothing for us to do tonight other than enjoy each other's company."

"Let me go, you great oaf!" she grumbled as his arm slid around her back to draw her into the curve of his body. His lips began to graze her ear, and she shuddered in surprise, trying to pull away. "Stop that!"

"Aw, come on, Dolores, you know you want to," he chided her. "I just want to make you feel good. Don't you like to feel good sometimes?"

"I—I—well, hey—"

Goyle laid her onto the couch and lay on top of her, his lips making a hot trail down her throat. She started to push him off, but then gasped in surprise as his fingers slid inside the front of her dress and found things to play with.

"Hmm, see, that feels good, doesn't it?" he teased her. "Why don't you let your husband find out if there are any other spots you like played with, like a good little dictator-to-be?"

Dolores, her face gone red with embarrassment and a certain degree of interest, could do nothing more than nod her agreement to this plan. Perhaps she might have just a little bit of time for such things after all.

#

"What's that you're reading, Tom?" Hermione asked curiously as she stepped into the living room and saw him sitting there with his jaw half way down to his knees. He looked up, surprised to see her, and then gave her a devilish grin.

"You're never going to believe this, my dear," he said. "Not in a million years."

"Believe what?" Hermione grumbled, coming to take the parchment from his hands. She read the missive, and then reread it just to make certain her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "McGonagall is going to marry Hagrid?"

"That's what the thing says," he chuckled, and then pulled his wife into his lap without further delay. "I wonder if they'll have table dancing at their wedding. I wouldn't mind seeing my sweet little wife perform a table dance for me. I don't think you'd be putting our child in danger, seeing as you're not too far along as yet."

"Have you gone mental after all?" she scoffed. "I'm not getting up and dancing on a table."

"Aw, why not, sweetheart?" he asked with a chuckle. "Would you do it if I got up on the table with you?"

"Nope, not happening," she told him, trying to escape from his grasp. Tom laughed as he held her fast, and began to suckle along the side of her neck. He knew full well he was marking her with little red love bites, and she swatted at him, trying to get him to stop. "You're incorrigible, Tom Riddle! Let me go!"

"Never," he said as his lips found hers again. "I will never, ever let you go. You must know that by now, surely?"

"I did get that impression," she teased him, leaning into his kiss as his hands began a quest. His thumbs danced along her sensitive nipples, and then he slid his hands downward to rub her belly. The proud smile on his face made Hermione's heart begin to race as she watched him. "What are you doing, silly?"

"Hello in there? Can you hear your daddy yet?" he called against her belly.

"I'm not even three months yet, you git," Hermione reminded him.

"So? This is our baby," he reminded her. "He's bound to be able to do some extraordinary things, with us for parents. How do you know he can't hear me?"

"How do you know he is a he?" she inquired with a giggle. "She could well be a she."

"No, this one is a boy," he insisted.

"You say that like you're planning on making more of them," she teased him.

"Of course I am, my dear," he said with a smile. "Now, up, up, up, we need to get dressed so we can go meet Harry and Ginny for their wedding rehearsal."

"I can't believe Harry Potter actually asked you to be his best man," Hermione said for about the tenth time since he'd first told her. "That is just too bloody amazing."

"Well, love, we've become fast friends now that we're working on the same team," Tom told her with a pleased smile. "I'm actually looking forward to the event, to tell you the truth. Their wedding will be yet another example of what we've been working for."

"Blended blood," Hermione said with a nod. "Yes, Harry's mother was a Muggle, so he's a half-blood, same as you. I wonder just how much interest his wedding will catch once people find out about you being a member of its party. For all we know, those pure-bloods might even attack."

"Not to worry, Hermione," he said. "We will have plenty of witches and wizards willing to cast the spells needed to keep out the undesirables. There won't be any wedding crashers at this party."

Hermione chuckled, earning her a curious look. "Oh, sorry," she said. "I was just imagining the great Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters keeping out wedding crashers. Don't mind me."

"Woman—" he began, and then he burst out into laughter along with her. "Do you know how much I needed you in my life?"

"As much as I needed you?" she inquired sweetly.

Without another word, Tom drew his wife into his arms and Apparated the two of them to their bedroom. Hermione did not complain about this in the least, of course, for their banter could have had no other possible outcome, considering how much the pair desired each other.

"Mmm, you're so sweet," Tom whispered into her hair. "I could taste you all day long."

Hermione chuckled at this, and brazenly said, "Then why don't you?"

"Is that what you want?" he asked, the fire in his eyes heating her up nicely. Tom tossed Hermione into the middle of the bed and then straddled her, leaning down to administer soft kisses until she sighed into his mouth. "You want me to taste you, sweetheart?"

"Please," she whispered ardently as she began working at the buttons on his shirt. When she was done, he pulled his arms out, leaving the undershirt beneath. Her fingers were already peeling it away before he'd even finished, and he yanked it over his head with a flourish, tossing the thing aside.

"This thing?" he clarified as his hand slid down her body to play with her, pushing at the fabric that covered her folds.

"That's the one," she answered huskily, and he leaned down to kiss her again before he plied kisses all down her body, uncovering her breasts to bite at her nipples, delving his tongue into her belly button, and finally sliding her pants out of the way and tasting her. Hermione groaned with delight at his urgency as he worked her quickly into a frenzy.

"I want you so much, love," he told her then.

Hermione's hands freed his hardened member as quickly as she could. It was difficult, since they seemed to be trembling, and Tom's hands came down to cover hers, lending some stability as she finished. No sooner had she pulled him free of his clothing than he plunged into her, not bothering to get rid of his pants completely before taking his prize.

"Yes!" she breathed, pulling at him. She couldn't seem to hold him close enough, such was her need to have him near.

"My sweet little wife," he breathed into her hair. "My sweet, beautiful little witch! How could I have lived a whole lifetime without someone as sweet as you?"

"I love you, Tom," she told him, turning his face so he was looking into her eyes. "So much."

"I love you, too," he said, then they pounded together fervently, reveling in the feel of each other, the taste and the scent. Tom called out Hermione's name as he came inside her, and groaned it again as the walls of her sweet hole caressed him as she, too, found her release.

Both of them sweaty and exhausted from their exertions, it didn't take long for them to drift off to sleep. Hermione sighed contentedly, wrapped in the warmth of her husband's arms. It wasn't until about half an hour later that either of them remembered they were supposed to be getting dressed, rather than undressed, at the moment.

"Do you think they'd notice if we didn't show up?" Tom asked as they exchanged a look that spoke without any words being needed.

"Yeah, right," Hermione grumbled. "Ginny wouldn't forget a thing like that, even if Harry did."

"Well, I guess we'd better go, then, hm?"

"I'll have another go," Hermione teased him, and giggled at the interest that sparked in his eyes.

"Maybe we could tell them we forgot how to Apparate," Tom suggested, his hands already working their magic yet again. "Or, we could tell them we took a trip to Mars—"

"Shut up and kiss me, you fool," Hermione chuckled. "It's perfectly acceptable to be fashionably late, right?"

"Good," Tom said. "Let's show up next week."


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Tom Riddle glanced up sharply as Lucius Malfoy popped suddenly into view beside the desk at which he sat in their Ministry office about a week later. With a nod to the man to acknowledge his presence, he turned back to the mirror he was watching without a word.

"Aren't you concerned that Potter might catch you with one of those things?" Lucius inquired. "I'm certain he would become suspicious of their purpose unduly if he did."

"Harry won't think anything of me looking into a mirror since he does not realize their purpose," Tom pointed out. "We've managed to place our little spy network in the homes of at least a dozen purebloods already, and he is none the wiser. Besides which, he would not object to the idea of keeping an eye on the enemy even if he did know."

"If that is true, why keep him in the dark about it?" Lucius pointed out.

"For no other reason than that he might consider the use of mirrors to spy on people unethical, and let the cat out of the bag, so to speak," Tom explained. "Then there is always the possibility that he may not think we are being truthful about our intentions, and tattle to Kingsley. He was set among us as the babysitter, after all."

"Babysitter?" Lucius repeated with amusement. "I hear you're going to need one of those yourself soon."

"Ah, the news has made the rounds, has it?" he asked with a smile. "I believe the deed was accomplished before the vows, as a matter of fact."

"Proud papa, Tom?" Lucius chuckled. "That is something I never thought I would see if you'd asked me a year ago-Lord Voldemort pleased at the prospect of his impending paternity."

Tom grimaced slightly at the reference, then turned to put the small mirror he held in his hand away. "Potter should be here soon," he said. "We're about to beard the big dog today."

"Really?" Lucius asked. "Are we going to visit the Goyles, then?"

"The very same," he said with a nod. "We'll need to be at the top of our game for this one."

"Perhaps we could place extra mirrors about the place, just in case," Lucius suggested.

"Only if we have the opportunity, Lucius," he answered as he tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "The last thing we want right now is to get caught by the other team. They'd be removing our network before you could even say Merlin's beard three times fast."

"Good morning, gentlemen," said Harry Potter as he stepped through the door and removed his cloak, hanging it on one of the hooks. Lucius, who had not yet done the same, stepped forward and removed his as well.

"Hello, Potter," he said with a smile. "Two days till the big event, I see. And how are you holding up?"

"Oh, I'm doing great, Lucius," he said with a smile. "Have you went to the jeweler for the ring like I asked, Tom?"

"Yes, I have," he said as he continued writing furiously on the report they were supposed to have turned in yesterday. "You chose your best man well. I won't let you down."

"Yeah, it looks like it," Harry chuckled. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Hermione kept you up for another late night of reading?"

Tom winced and wrote even faster. "I'll have this finished in a jiffy, and then we can be off. You two start strategizing how we're going to get past all of Dolores's guards in the first place while I pop over to give this to Kingsley."

"Are you sure we don't want to bring a few Aurors along for this one?" Harry clarified as Tom stood up with the paperwork in hand.

"I doubt any of them would want to go on this suicide run," he scoffed. "But you're welcome to inquire. I'm sure they can keep the guards in check while we go inside."

"All right, I'll get my best men on it," said Harry, and he Apparated away at the same time Tom did. This left Lucius standing there looking unsure what to do.

"Well then," he said dryly. "Perhaps a bit of staying power."

So saying, he stepped over to a small wet bar off to the side and pouring himself a glass of firewhiskey, which he downed as he waited for the others to return.

#

"Oi, Harry," said Seamus into his friend's ear. "Are you sure we should be going to a place like this with the likes of them? I mean, ain't they a pair of Slytherins themselves."

"I heard that," Tom mentioned with a false smile in the young Auror's direction. "Not every Slytherin wants to eat you alive and spit out the bones for their demonic hounds to chew upon, regardless of what you were told in school. There are plenty of us who are excellent members of society. Now keep your head in the game, upstart, the fun is about to begin."

"Yes, sir," Seamus answered, his voice slightly higher than usual. "Please don't eat my beak."

Tom chuckled and turned to the three other Aurors. "Ready, boys? Now remember, you're just here to keep the riffraff off our backs till we can—deliver our message of good will toward Muggles. Think you can handle that?"

"Sure we can," answered Hannah Abbott as she flourished her wand. "I'll really enjoy taking on a bunch of purebloods. Call me a Mudblood, will they? I'll show them who's a Mudblood."

"Well then, gentlemen," said Tom with a wry grin. "The lady Auror's got it all under control. You blokes can all go home now."

The round of laughter than followed this broke some of the tension, and then Tom indicated with a flourish that they should proceed. The team of four Aurors headed in first, followed by the three do-gooders, or so they had recently been dubbed by the elitists they'd been contending with.

"Here, what business have you gents got with the Goyle house?" asked a burly wizard who was lounging against one of the trees just outside the entrance to the gates.

"Official Ministry business," said Harry Potter in bold tones, eyeing the man with dislike.

"You're wasting your time around here," he informed them as he glared back at Harry. "We don't allow Mudbloods in here, and at least half of you fit that description. Well, all except for that traitor of a Malfoy you've got along for the ride."

"Give over, Harper," growled Seamus's cousin, Fergus as he stared at their former classmate. "You were never best at wands. Any one of us could take you easily."

"I've had much better teachers since then," he pointed out. "I even served as a Snatcher for a while. You won't be able to take me on."

"Here, now, there's to be no taking on today," Tom admonished them both. "The Ministry is still the ruling body of this land, and I have been sent here with a job to do. Anyone who wishes to start something, they'll be starting it with me."

Harper's face drained of color when he heard this. He had known the older version of this man and feared him as much as every other follower, to be sure. A fact that Tom was counting on to get him in the door.

"I'll just be heading in to see if the Goyle's are receiving any guests at this time," he said circumspectly.

"Warning them we're here, more like," Harry scoffed.

Lucius stepped forward and put a menacing yet polite hand on the lad's shoulder. "Look, Harper, I understand you've been given a job to do, but is it really worth your life to try to stop us today? Live to fight another day—there's a good lad. We'll just be following you in now, if you please."

Fidgeting under his former mentor's gaze, Harper nodded as he turned to walk over to the gate and open it for them to enter. "I'll be leaving you to take your chances, then," he said. "Like you said, I'd rather not die today."

As they walked right through the gates, Tom commented to Harry, "Interesting choice for a gate guard. With such a weak entry, there's sure to be a more worthy adversary nearby. Keep your wand at the ready."

While Tom was telling Harry this and the others had gone on ahead, Lucius quickly set a mirror in the wall of the main gates and cast a concealment spell on it. He was quick enough to do so unnoticed by anyone either in front or behind him, as he turned to ensure himself the Harper brat had also remained ignorant. That stalwart lad was nowhere to be seen.

"Your boy out front has Apparated somewhere," Lucius commented. "I wonder if we're to see him again in the near future, or if he's gone off to hide. Since I'm the one who trained him, I rather suspect our presence has just been announced."

"Yes, you're probably right, Lucius," Tom agreed. They turned to face a group of five swarthy Death Eaters who were heading straight for them.

"Can we help you gentlemen out?" asked Rodolphus Lestrange as his brother folded his arms beside him.

"Ah, the brothers Lestrange," said Lucius in his mellifluous tones. "I did not know the two of you remained alive. It's a pleasure to see you again."

"I take no pleasure in greeting a brother-in-law who has turned his back on his friends," Rodolphus informed him coldly. "Best if you and your new cronies leave before there's any trouble."

"Surely you must have heard, brother, that we have not come here to fight with anyone," Lucius said in a deceptively soft voice. "This is merely a courtesy call to the Goyles to apprise them of some new policies the Ministry has put into effect. Surely you would not wish for your new Lord and Lady to break any laws, would you?"

"The Ministry has no law that will affect the Goyles, sir," he growled.

"Still, I would be remiss in my duty if I did not make certain of this myself," Lucius said more insistently. "Will you stand aside, brother, or would you prefer to rejoin your lovely wife?"

While the two spoke, Tom motioned for the rest of the team to continue toward the front door.

"That'll be far enough, Mudblood," Rabastan said to Tom as he stepped in front of him.

Without so much as the blink of an eye, Tom cast a Crucio on the man. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony, while the three other wizards pulled their wands and aimed them at the advancing party. Wandfire arced through the air in all directions, and in short order each of the intimidating wizards had been disabled, almost all of them by Tom Riddle himself.

"Wow, I guess you did already know a lot by the time you graduated, didn't you?" Harry commented as he surveyed his handiwork.

"You didn't do so bad yourself, Potter," he said. "And here you thought you needed extra Aurors."

"We're not inside yet, Riddle," he pointed out. "Let's see if we can stir up any more trouble before this day is done, shall we?"

"Come on, you lot, head for the door."

At a run, the party advanced toward the front door, but they hadn't quite reached it when about twenty more wizards barreled out, wands blazing.

"Ah, now the real fun begins," Tom said with a grin as he started picking people off one by one. Harry and Tom put their backs together as they advanced, and Lucius backed them up as they continued on their way to the entrance. "Keep these blokes busy, Aurors, we've got a bit of business to attend to."

As the three entered the narrow doorway, each arranged themselves with their backs to the walls instead, eyes wide as they edged their way forward. Tom hung back long enough to sneak a mirror into the wall near the front door while Lucius and Harry continued on. Harry looked back just as he'd finished, and gave him a curious stare. Tom pretended he had no idea what Potter's problem was as he caught back up with them.

"Good morning, gentlemen," said Dolores as she stepped in front of them. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I've brought you some papers from the Ministry," said Tom in as official a manner as possible as he stepped between Harry and Lucius, advancing right up the middle of the hallway. "You'll need to sign for them, so they know that you've received them."

"What sort of papers?" Dolores asked sweetly, her smile as unperturbed as ever.

"You have been ordered to comply with the new mandate prohibiting the censure or unlawful abuse of all Mudbloods and Muggles," said Tom with a raised brow. "If you do not cease your behaviors in this regard, you will be tried and sentenced accordingly."

"And what unlawful abuses are you referring to, might I ask?" Dolores inquired, her voice becoming both colder and sweeter at the same time.

"If you do not cease capturing and torturing the aforementioned Mudbloods and Muggles, as we know you and your cohorts have been doing on these very premises, the Ministry will have no recourse but to put a stop to these endeavors in a very immediate, very decisive manner."

"Very well then," she said. "I shall sign for these papers and you gentlemen can be on your way. Mind you don't decimate any more of my employees on the way out, or I shall be forced to press charges on you."

Tom implanted a mirror at the front of the hall looking into the living room as she signed, and Lucius stood blocking him from full view of the others as he did so. After Dolores handed the piece of parchment back to him, Tom motioned for everyone to leave again and followed at the rear, his eyes never leaving hers.

"We'll see which of us is the better choice, Riddle," she called after him. "Of that you can be sure."


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

"Well, that was about as crazy a mission as I ever want to see again," Harry Potter commented when the group popped back into their office at the Ministry. "Thanks a lot, guys, get Seamus to the infirmary right away, and report back to me when you know the status of his condition. That'll be all."

"Yes sir, Mr. Potter, sir," they answered, and the extra Aurors left without another word.

"Tom, we need to discuss what just happened, I think," Harry said as he sat down in one of the chairs with a weary sigh. "Unforgivables are illegal, you know?"

"Yes, I do," he said as he rolled his eyes. "I quite forgot myself just then. I've got such a temper, you know, and that woman really sets it off."

"Well, if it makes you feel better she has that effect on most people," Harry told him. "But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to know exactly what it was you just embedded in the wall of the Goyle's foyer."

"Oh, that," he said, his eyes hooded as he took a seat in the chair behind his desk. "Just a spying device I brought along for the occasion."

"You put a spying device in Goyle manor?" Harry scoffed. "How would you dare? I doubt it'd remain there more than a few hours at best with so many good wizards in her employ."

"No, Potter, it's not your standard, every day device," he told him. "I wouldn't be so foolish as to make it that easy for them to find. I built the thing out of a mirror, if you must know."

"A mirror?" Harry asked curiously. "Wait, is that why I often see you looking in mirrors, Tom? I always assumed you were just a little vain."

Oh, ha ha, Potter," he said testily. "Hermione and I communicate with mirrors periodically throughout the day, if you must know. We've got a couple of compacts we use. See, I keep it right here next to my heart, where it belongs."

Tom pulled a small compact mirror out of a pocket in his shirt to show it to Harry, then slipped it back inside again. Then he leaned forward to open the drawer of his desk and pulled out the spying mirror he kept there. Harry stepped over to have a look.

"See, I can call up any one of the mirrors we've placed so far and see if there's anything going on that might be of interest. So far, Lucius and I managed to put mirrors into the homes of about twelve purebloods we suspect are in league with Dolores," he explained. "I kept you in the dark about it until I knew the plan would be a success, and now that we've tagged the Goyle household it looks like it's going to work."

"Brilliant," Harry commented as he took the mirror from Tom's hands to have a look. "This is Goyle manor, all right. That's great, Tom, really," he said, and then his face fell and he said, "Ew!"

"What is it, Harry?" Tom inquired, and Harry turned the mirror his way.

"In the bloody foyer? In the middle of the day, right after a battle?" Tom gasped as he stared at the glass in disgust. "Well, I guess we know whether or not they actually do it."

"I was perfectly happy with my state of ignorance," Harry commented.

"What are you two going on about?" Lucius inquired as he stepped over to have a look. After a few moments of perusal, he said, "Good technique. I never would have thought the man would be able to use a wall to such good effect."

"It's bloody Dolores Umbridge, you smarmy git," Harry pointed out as he covered his eyes and went back to his chair. "I don't want to look at that right before my wedding night, and have it stuck in my head while I'm trying to consummate."

"I'm sure you and Ginny aren't waiting for your wedding night for that," Tom scoffed.

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean we aren't going to do it that night," Harry pointed out. "You did it on your wedding night, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes," Tom assured him with a grin as he put the mirror away. "Of that you can be sure."

"Then do allow me my moment," Harry chastised him. "I'm going to carry her over the threshold and everything, and then shag her right on the floor as soon as she's in the door."

"Good plan," Tom told him as his fingers touched the compact at his heart in a way that made it clear he was remembering something quite enjoyable about his wife. "I wonder if Hermione would have a go in the foyer and then on the living room floor, and then maybe the kitchen table after that."

"Remind me not to take you up on any dinner invitations," Harry teased him.

The three of them chuckled as Seamus's cousin popped in and said, "Seamus is stable, Mr. Potter, but it's going to be a long day. There are at least twenty bones that have to mend."

"Ugh! I know from personal experience that's not fun," Harry said. "Thanks for the report."

"No problem, sir," he answered, and popped out again.

"Well, we've done a fair bit of work for the day, gentlemen," Lucius commented dryly. "What say we all go on home early? I could use a nice meal."

"Here, here!" Tom and Harry said at the same time. And each man went home to their women with rather unchaste ideas for the afternoon dancing in their heads.

#

"Tom Riddle, what on earth do you think you're doing?" Hermione inquired when he suddenly appeared behind her as she stood in the kitchen working on the evening meal. "Hey, I was trying to get this chicken ready, let go!"

"That chicken can bloody well wait," he told her as his lips trailed kisses down her neck. He pulled her back against his front, and Hermione was made well aware of his current level of interest in other matters.

"Tom!" she gasped as she tilted her head backwards and off to one side so he could better reach her throat with his questing lips and tongue. "Oh, Tom!"

His hands had also begun a quest of exploration, and before Hermione knew it the buttons on her blouse were all undone, and his fingers were playing at the front closure of the bra she had on. No more words needed, she turned around and slid her fingers into the front of his pants, found no room, and unbuttoned his fly in one swift movement.

"Hermione, yes!" he growled as his lips claimed hers. He picked her up and carried her into the living room, lying her lovingly on the Persian rug in front of the sofa. She giggled and tried to get up, moving toward the couch, but he caught at her hips and put her back. "Right here, love," he told her with a playful grin.

"The servants could come in here," she reminded him with a slight blush. But that was about the end of her protests as he pulled her skirt up around her hips and plunged his tongue into her mouth at the same time he pushed her underwear aside so he could plunge right in there as well. "Oh! Wow! What's got you in such a state?"

"Never mind, love," he chuckled. "It's too long of a story for the moment."

"Mmm, nothing around here is too long," she teased. "It's just right."

"Thank you, my darling," he answered with a grin. "Now let's see what it can do."

The pair of them set to the task with a great deal of fervor then, making use of different pieces of furniture and positions for the next couple of hours. Somehow they managed to avoid any servants' unwanted notice, but it was probably because they were making enough noise to inform anyone who might have entered in plenty of time to take a different route.

"Hermione, I want it to be like this for us always," Tom told her as they lay curled into each other on the couch. "Do you think it can be?"

"Well, yes, but once we've got kids, we probably won't get away with it quite as much," she said breathlessly. "I mean, I never caught my parents going at it when I was a kid, and I'm sure they loved each other just as much as we do."

"So what do you think they did while you were at school, or playing outside somewhere, hmm?" he teased her.

"Gross!" Hermione said with a shudder before she chuckled. "So is that the plan, then? Shag massively as soon as the little dears aren't looking?"

"Absolutely," Tom said with a huge grin as he moved so he was on top of her. He put her hips at a better angle, then entered her again as she wrapped her legs around him. "Most definitely! Best plan ever—"

"Stop talking and fuck me already," Hermione commanded.

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, always willing to oblige in such matters. By the time they'd finished Hermione decided to magic the chicken into a finished meal instead of cooking it Muggle-style. Tom didn't look like he was complaining as the two ate their meal beside a nice fire and then cuddled there for the rest of the night.


	29. Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"You blokes won't like what I've been hearing over the network during the night," Lucius commented dryly as Tom and Harry popped in at about the same time a few weeks later. "Oh, Harry, nice to see you back. How was the honeymoon?"

"Best ever," he said with a satisfied grin. "Has either of you started in the floo as soon as you arrived? That was a bit of fun."

"I hope you didn't stay there," said Lucius with a distasteful grimace. "Nasty place. You'd get powder in who knows what orifice."

Tom chuckled at this, but then got right to business. "What is it we're not going to like, Lucius?" he wanted to know.

"Well, the long and the short of it is, Dolores is planning an attack on the Ministry within the week," he said. "I've cross-checked this several times. It would appear they've got an ace in the hole, but I'll be damned if I can discover who it is."

"Well, we can at least be sure it isn't any of us," Harry pointed out. "Tom and I have both been busy shagging our wives all weekend, and I'm quite certain you found a good way to spend your time as well."

"Oh, yes, Cissy was very amenable to the idea of a weekend alone," Lucius answered drolly. "Since Draco and Tory's baby was born, we haven't had much time for anything of the sort. It's nice of those two to decide to visit her family for a change."

"Maybe you should ask Draco and Tory to get their own place," Harry suggested. "It's not as though he can't afford it."

"No, dear boy, the manor is his as much as it is mine," Lucius said. "We shall simply have to endure. And with such a lovely grandson, it's no real chore at all."

"I never thought I would see the day when Lucius Malfoy was a proud grandpa," Harry chuckled. "But then again, I never thought I'd see the day when we were talking about that grandchild while we were working together at the Ministry, either."

"Enough nostalgia, gentlemen," Tom broke into their conversation. "We need to figure out who the bad guys have in their pocket."

"That's just the thing," Lucius said. "Ever since I caught wind of it, I've been chasing that rumor like there's no tomorrow. No one has so much as hinted at anything other than that someone they're calling 'the contact' will be helping them get inside. I think perhaps very few of them have even been told who that contact is."

"That would be very wise," Tom pointed out. "If Dolores believes there are spies in her own camp, she's not likely to simply go about bandied the name of her contact so her plans can be ruined. And every great leader is sure to have spies in their camp. It's inevitable."

"Yes, just like Severus was in yours for the longest time," Harry said, and then remembered that this Tom had never met Severus Snape."

"What, you mean that potions professor?" Tom asked. "Knowing me I probably knew he was a spy and didn't care. I would find it quite useful to have spies in my camp, so I could leak faulty information whenever I so desired."

"Yes, I happen to know that Voldemort was well aware of Severus's duplicity," Lucius commented. "He found it to be an entertaining diversion, allowing the man to believe that he remained clueless after so many years. I mean, really, how could a man as smart as you remain ignorant that long?"

Tom grinned wryly. "I don't think I could," he admitted. "But then again, who knows how much of my intelligence the copy retained?"

"I would venture to guess it was a fairly good amount," Harry pointed out. "Voldemort was no fool by any means."

"Foolish enough to get himself killed, wasn't he?" Tom scoffed.

"I think he may very well have hoped for it, Tom," Harry pointed out. "Sometimes I believe I never would have been a true match for him. I believe he knew he had stretched his soul too thin, and needed to be killed to put it back together again."

"That's so odd to think on, isn't it?"

"What's that, Tom?" Harry asked curiously.

"That he was a mere copy to begin with, only in possession of a copied soul," he said. "Does that mean that he, too, was a horcrux of sorts? I've wondered about that all this time."

"It's almost like I was telling you about, remember, when we first met?" said Harry with a smirk. "You've got a split personality, for sure."

"No, Ginny's idea sounded closer," Tom said thoughtfully. "I was curious after you were all talking about bipolar disorder, so I decided to do a bit of research. Euphoric highs where you believe yourself invincible, lows so low you think of doing yourself in—and then of course, there were a few other symptoms as well."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Strange sexual situations, for one," Tom said with a smirk. "I've had a few interesting occasions—including when I met my wife, for that matter."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, to tell the truth, Harry, I met her in a mirror," he chuckled. "You can't get much stranger than that, can you?"

"Not unless you count starting in the floo," said Harry with a grin.

"You blokes better have a look at this," Lucius said as he held the mirror up for them to see. "That looks suspiciously like an army gathering, if you ask me."

After watching the witches and wizards continually popping into Goyle manor for over a minute, Tom shook his head in agreement. He said, "We may not know where they'll strike, but we can at least tell Kingsley there's trouble. Harry, where's your little Auror friends at the moment?"

"I'll call them in immediately," Harry said, and sent a Patronus straight away. Soon their own small army began to form as more and more Aurors showed up in answer to calls from their fellow Ministry workers.

Kingsley popped in after a time, and stepped up to the three men in the middle of it all. "What's all this about, gentlemen? I set you to watch the pure-bloods, not wage war with them."

"Oh, believe me, Minister, it's completely the other way around," Lucius told him. "Our little bird tells us that we're about to have some company."

"Tell me more."

"Sir, you may want to sit down for this one," Harry said. "It's a long story, and we have little time to tell it."

#

"Tonight, we will make history," Dolores told her followers as she stood on a makeshift stage so they all could see her. "For too long the Ministry has kept true witches and wizards from enjoying their talents to the full. We have been made to restrict ourselves for the sake of the Muggles, and they have allowed our blood to mingle with theirs, making filthy Mudbloods at every turn. I begin to think, my friends, that there are more Mudbloods than there are pure. A disgusting, vile state of affairs which we will rectify just as soon as we have properly seized control. Our contact is most anxious to open the way, for he understands the need to purge our world of the filth that has infested it once and for all."

"Hear, hear!" the crowd shouted in unison.

"All is in readiness," Dolores continued. "All we need do now is travel to our predetermined site and wait for the signal."

So saying, a large volume of individual popping sounds occurred, and when the noise died down it was because nobody was left. Tom looked grimly at Kingsley, who had been seated beside him watching the mirror.

"Well, they're on their way," he said. "Now all we need to do is figure out who is supposed to be letting them in, and stop them if we can."

"No, no, I've got a better idea," Kingsley said. "Let them come in, let them think we don't know they're here. When they're all inside, we'll be able to capture the lot of them and put an end to all their scheming."

"Great minds really do think alike," Tom said with a smirk. "But let's not tell the others. At least, not until the interlopers have made it inside."

"Yes, I like that idea, too," Kingsley agreed, Then to everyone in the room he added, 'Stay sharp, everyone. They're on their way."


	30. Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

Hermione thought it was strange to find the halls of the Ministry completely empty at this time of day—just before lunch. In fact, she was there with a surprise lunch for Tom, and she headed from the floo towards his office with a smile on her face. Until the eerie silence started to get to her along the way.

She started to look around, over her shoulder, back ahead of her, craning her neck to see if she could catch sight of anyone at all. Not even an echo of sound met her ears. Not one person entered the hall. It was completely creepy.

"Hello?" she called out. "Where is everybody?"

Tom poked his head out the door of the office he shared with Lucius and Harry. "Hermione, what the devil are you doing here? Get in here, quick!"

One hand snaked out to grab her by the wrist and pull her inside.

"Tom, what's going on?" she asked as she held her swollen belly with one hand.

"Mione, why are you here?" he wanted to know.

"The baby kicked me, and I figured I'd bring you lunch and tell you," she said with a confused frown. "See, he's doing it again."

Tom's hand slid onto her belly to feel the soft kicks of their child even as his other arm wrapped around her protectively. "How did you get in here?" he wanted to know.

"Through the floo, as usual," she told him.

"The special floo, the one meant just for the Ministry officials?" he commented wryly. "We forgot to close the special floo. Seamus, quickly, go close the floo. Phineas, Alfonso, go along to guard him."

"Yes sir, Mr. Riddle, sir," they chimed in unison, and quickly went out the door.

"Sweetheart, you picked a pretty bad day to try to surprise me," he told Hermione, who had been looking around the room full of people in an astonished sort of panic. "We're about to have company. Now, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want you anywhere near the battle. I don't want you or the baby to get hurt—and these people mean business, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean, battle?" asked Hermione in a higher voice than usual. "What battle?"

"Against the Goyles, love," he explained. "They're about to mount an attack. Now, where to hide you so we can keep you safe," he added thoughtfully. "Kingsley, do you think your office will be safe enough for Hermione?"

"It will be, as long as they don't get inside of it," Kingsley said. "But Tom, the only way she's going to get there is on foot. It's already been sealed. And we can't spare anyone to take her there. It may be better to seal her in her somehow."

"There's nowhere in here but the closet," Tom protested. "Do you want me to put my pregnant wife into a closet, of all places?"

"Everyone, do you hear that?" Lucius commented. "Everyone be quiet, I need to listen."

"What is it, Lucius?" Harry asked as everyone else silenced immediately. Lucius listened for a few moments, then said, "I don't think our friends made it to the floo. I hear wand fire."

"You don't think they knew about the floo being open?" Tom asked worriedly. "Wait, that's it. I could have sworn we sealed that floo, Kingsley. One of us must have opened it before Hermione came through. But who's missing that knows about it?"

Looking around, Kingsley cast him a grim look. "Where is Udoria Edgecombe? It's mighty suspicious that a woman who works as part of the Floo Network Authority should be missing right when we're having difficulty with unauthorized Floo entrants."

Harry cast him a shocked look.

"What is it, Potter?" Kingsley inquired.

"Udoria Edgecombe's daughter is the one who betrayed Dumbledore's Army to Dolores Umbridge," he pointed out, grinding his teeth angrily.

"Ah yes, Sneak Edgecombe," Kingsley recalled, now that Harry had brought it up. Turning to one of the nearby Aurors, he said, "Somebody find out the whereabouts of Udoria Edgecombe immediately. I think we may have discovered the identity of our 'inside connection'."

"Right away, Minister," he said with a slight bow, and rushed off to do his bidding.

"Little good that's going to do us now," Tom pointed out. "Goyle's Army is headed down the hall, and we have no idea what has happened to three of our best Aurors."

"Don't worry about them," Harry said. "Those boys can take care of themselves."

"Hermione, darling, come with me," said Tom as he drew Hermione against his side and brought her with him through a door at the back of the office. It led into another hallway, which was not yet filled with a gang of witches and wizards bent on destruction.

"Tom, where are we going?" she demanded. "You're the strongest Wizard we've got. You need to get back in there. Don't worry about me, I can figure something out."

"No, wait, I have an idea," he told her. "It's crazy, but at least you'll be safe."

"What idea?" Hermione protested as he brought her into the men's bathroom. A huge mirror was on the wall above the sinks.

Wasting no time, Tom aimed his wand at it and said, " Pervenire in Speculum!"

"Are you crazy?" she gasped.

"Get in," he insisted. "I'll come for you when the battle is over."

"What happens if the other side wins?" she wanted to know as he lifted her up onto the counter.

"Then I'd be dead, and you'd be safely elsewhere," Tom said. "Because believe me, my darling, the only way that lot is going to win is over my dead body."

"I love you, Tom," she told him urgently, grasping him about the neck and pulling him to her for a quick kiss.

"And I love you, Hermione," he said. "With all my heart, forever."

They could hear wand fire coming closer, and Tom cast Hermione an alarmed look. "They've gotten past the perimeter. Go now, Hermione. I will come for you."

With a frightened look, Hermione scooted herself backwards and went into the mirror. She had no idea what she was likely to find on the other side, and no idea how long it would be before she saw her husband again. Tears stung her eyes as she watched him leave, and then she hopped down onto the floor on the other side and left as well.

#

"Tom, where have you been?" Kingsley shouted as he stepped out into the hall and right into the path of the fleeing Minister and Aurors. "Where is Hermione?"

"Safe," he replied. "As safe as she can be in the middle of all this, anyway."

"They've overrun all of the upper offices," Kingsley told him. "If we're to survive, we'll have to go down and alert everyone below. If we fail, the Underground is likely to become our tomb. Everyone, get to the lifts. Take them down and warn as many people as possible along the way. Don't take the time to get out, just send them Patronuses. We're going to have to regroup in the Great Courtrooms. Go!"

"Lucius, Harry, come with me," Tom called to the two men, who joined him as he ran for the nearest lift. Ten of the Aurors got inside as well.

"What have you done with Hermione?" Harry wanted to know as the lift began to move backwards and then shot down at a breakneck pace. Lucius busied himself with crafting and sending Patronus charms every few seconds while the Aurors huddled together with grim looks on their faces.

"Hermione is safe from all of this," he told him. "We must put aside thoughts of our loved ones now, Potter, and think only of what must be done."

"We've reached the bottom," Lucius announced. "Let's just hope Dolores's mob hasn't gotten here first."

"Stop," said Tom when the door opened. "We must determine what we're walking into first. Lucius, go left. Potter, you take the right. I'll to straight ahead. Aurors, flank the others. I'll go on alone."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Tom?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Do as I say, Potter," he insisted. "I know what I'm doing."

Harry grasped him by the shoulder, stopping him from his movement toward the door. "Good luck, my friend."

"You too," he said as he grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. The two of them nodded toward Lucius, who was already at the entrance glancing back at them, and with a grim smile he nodded in return. In the next moment, he was gone, followed by five Aurors, and then Harry and his Aurors left as well.

Alone now, Tom squared his shoulders and walked out, right down the middle of the hall. He strode purposefully down the corridor, daring anyone to get in his way.

"I know you're here somewhere, Dolores," he called out. "I can smell your bloody perfume."

A shrill giggle filled the hall, and then about ten of her soldiers stepped out to block his path. Tom made short work of dispatching them all.

"Come on, you old hag!" he called out in a taunting voice. "Too afraid to take me yourself? Have to send in your little minions to do it for you? You wanted to see which of us is better. Let's find out."

"Beat this, Riddle!" shouted a man from behind him. It was Avery.

"Ah, Avery, I wondered when I'd get the pleasure of seeing you again," he said as he turned to face him. He gave him a slight bow before he took one step forward and shouted, "Crucio!"

Avery was ready for him. Their spells clashed together in the middle of the hall, then dispelled in a sparkling of colors. "You'll have to do better than that, my Lord," he said snidely.

"Oh, but I've only just begun," Tom assured him with a smirk. Then the two lobbed spells at each other, most of them crashing harmlessly aside as they were summarily blocked. But then, when Tom had grown bored with their dance, he bent forward and glared at the man with a look that shot fear through his soul.

"My Lord, wait!" he pleaded, but it was too late.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light shot across the hall and hit Avery straight on. He flew backwards, and his body skittered a few feet backwards from the force of the blow.

"Very good, Tom," Dolores called out, her voice echoing from every direction. "You won't take me so easily, I fear. Now, let's see how you handle this!"

A wave of fifty of her soldiers entered the hall from all sides, and Tom started firing as fast as he could, hoping against hope that he'd be able to take them all. He cast a Protego to shield himself, but by the time about half of the attackers were gone he was beginning to grow weak. A small tear formed in the corner of his eye as he thought of Hermione, all alone in the gods only knew what place. He had said only his death would allow them to win, and he was beginning to fear he might be right.

Then, just as he fell to his knees, knowing he was about to die, he heard a shout from one of the side hallways, and then from the other, as all of his companions entered the fray. He wished he had time to be thankful for it, but darkness descended before he even had the chance.


	31. Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The last person Hermione Granger expected to see when she stepped out of the room she was in was a calm, serene looking Harry Potter. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked her over, obviously not expecting what he saw.

"Here, now, Hermione, what were you doing in the men's bathroom, and how the devil did you suddenly become pregnant?" he demanded hotly. "You weren't pregnant this morning."

"What do you mean, Harry?" she asked uncertainly. "I'm almost five months along, you know that. Tom and I are ecstatically happy about it."

"Tom? Tom who?" he said. "Have you been stepping out on Ron?"

"Ron?" she scoffed. "You know very well Ron and I ended things ages ago. Whatever are you talking about?"

"Something very odd is going on here," he said. "And we're going to get to the bottom of it just as soon as I come out of there. I'll be right back, Hermione. Promise me you'll stay there."

"Oh, I will," she told him.

When Harry had returned, Hermione had figured out exactly what was going on. This was an alternate reality to the one she knew. Obviously in this one, she'd stayed with Ron and Harry had taken some job or other in the Ministry, or he wouldn't be here. But would his job be similar to the one her Harry had, working side by side with her husband each day, or would he still think of Tom Riddle as the evil Dark Lord Voldemort, and try to harm him?

She wasn't sure she wanted to reveal the mirror spells or her husband's identity to the young man who now stood before her. But if she didn't tell him about the mirrors, how was she supposed to get back to her own reality, and the Tom Riddle who loved her with all his heart?

"Now, Hermione, I want you to tell me exactly how it is you ended up in the men's bathroom and how you turned up pregnant," Harry insisted as he returned to her side. The two of them began to walk side by side, and actually turned into the same office as she'd left with Tom earlier.

"What job are you doing from here?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Muggle Relations," he explained. "Minister Malfoy felt that since I'm a half-blood, and have actually lived among them, that I'd be the perfect man for the job."

"Lucius Malfoy is your Minister of Magic?" she clarified. "I find that hard to believe, Harry."

"Why would that be hard to believe?" Harry asked. "He was the primary provider of the restitution funds the Death Eaters provided. He even made a public apology. The people really love him."

"And did he also apologize to all the Muggles he killed?" she wanted to know.

"Don't you remember, Hermione, he even had you up on the stage with him."

"Listen, Harry, this is going to sound very strange, but there's a reason I don't remember any of this," she said. "I'm from a different timeline, and I'm not sure when or how it skewed. I'm hoping very much that I won't have to figure any of this out. All I need to do is figure out how to get back where I belong and you'll never have to see me again."

"Hermione, if you weren't standing there pregnant in the middle of a Ministry hallway you don't belong in, I would have called you loony, but instead I think I'll just ask if there's any way I can help," said Harry as he looked her over once again.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "Tom sent me through the mirror to keep me safe, and I have no idea what happened in my timeline afterwards. He said that he would come for me as soon as he could, but I don't think I can stand around and wait for him in the middle of the men's bathroom. Maybe we should wait in here. This is your office in our timeline as well."

"Who is this Tom you keep going on about, Mione?" Harry wanted to know as she sat down in one of the chairs and put her feet up."

"Well, it's a long story, and I'm not sure I should tell it, but if my husband were to show up here without you knowing the whole story, I'm afraid you'd try to kill him," Hermione commented with a wry smile.

"Your husband?" he repeated, dumbfounded. "Hermione, when did you get married?"

"Just recently, though I fear that event may have skewed the timeline a lot farther back than that," she explained. "You see, my name is Hermione Riddle now."

"Riddle?" Harry gasped. "You're married to Tom Riddle?"

"Yes, ironically enough," she laughed. "But not the Tom Riddle who became Voldemort, though," she hurried to add. "Voldemort was actually just a copy of my Tom. He never did any of those things."

"So you're telling me that in your timeline Tom Riddle copied himself and came to the future just to marry you?" Harry scoffed.

"It does sound rather odd when you spell it out that way, but yes, I am," she said. "My Tom is actually a member of a committee dedicated to changing the mindset of purebloods to accept the need for Muggleborns and Half-bloods if they want the Wizarding world to continue to exist in the future."

"That sounds absolutely crazy, but it must be true," said Harry as he rubbed his temples. "Nobody could make up a half-baked story like that one."

"Yes, but here's the thing," Hermione said. "Does anyone around here other than you know what Tom looked like when he was younger?"

"No, just me and a few others, why?"

"Because if you didn't know what I'd just told you, and Tom showed up, what would you be most likely to do?"

"I think I'd better go keep watch in the men's room," Harry commented as he got to his feet. "You stay here and rest comfortably. I don't think you need to be running about in your condition."

"Harry, I haven't told you everything yet," said Hermione urgently. "The Ministry was a warzone when I left it on the other side. I'm not sure Tom will be able to come get me, or even if he's still alive."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, I thought you said your Tom was a good guy," Harry said irritably.

"He is," she assured him. "But he's trying to stop the bad guys as we speak—or should I say the bad girl?"

"Do I want to know who he's fighting?"

"Dolores Umbridge, who is now Dolores Goyle, the leader of a group of supremacists who want to take over the Ministry and destroy anything non-magical they can get their hands on. Voldemort was tame compared to her. He at least was willing to enslave us. The Goyles want to wipe us out completely."

"Perhaps your Ministry could use a bit of help," Harry speculated. "Ron and the other Aurors could prove useful. Do you know where Tom was headed when he left you?"

"The basement level," she said. "Are you seriously thinking of bringing in reinforcements in a war that isn't even yours?"

"I am," he told her. "If what you say is true, your Tom is going to need all the help he can get."


	32. Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

"No, Hermione, you can't go with into the middle of a battle in your condition," Ron insisted as he made her sit down once again. "Listen, if it will make you feel better, I'll bring my Hermione along to help in the fight."

"Yes, it would make me feel a little better-but only just," she grumbled as she removed his grasping hand from around her elbow. "It's a good thing Tom didn't see that, either. He's very protective of me."

"I still can't get over the idea that you ended up married to the Dark Lord," Ron scoffed. "I mean, you and I aren't even married yet in this dimension. I hope she's not having second thoughts, too."

"Ronald, there's no way for me to tell you that when I have no idea what events happened here as compared to the ones that happened there," she told him firmly. "Now, go on and get my other me and save my husband."

"Oh, and the Ministry and all the people, too, right?" he asked pointedly.

"Yeah, them too."

"See you soon," he said then, and gave her hand a squeeze. "And don't look so worried. I'm sure he'll be just fine. He didn't get to be a Dark Lord for nothing, right?"

With that, he turned away and climbed through the mirror that was still open to her world. Harry took her arm and led her back to his office, insisting that she stay there if she knew what was good for her.

"Everything will turn out, Mione," Harry insisted. "Just you wait and see."

"I hope so, Harry," she answered. "For all our sakes."

#

Tom didn't know how long he'd been out, but he could still hear the sounds of a battle raging as he came to. Looking around, he saw Harry off to his left, desperately fighting off three wizards as someone else carried him. He turned his head to see that it was Harry who carried him as well.

"Have I died and gone to bloody Harry Potter hell?" he wanted to know. It hurt a lot when he shook his head, so he decided not to do it again.

"Can you walk, Riddle?" asked the Harry who was carrying him.

"'Course I can," he grumbled. "I'm not a bloody infant. Speaking of infants, I've got to get my wife back. I told her I would come for her as soon as possible."

"Well, it's not possible just yet, mate," said Ron Weasley from his other side. He was firing his wand as he spoke, and then Hermione joined him.

"Hermione?" Tom growled. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? And where's our baby?"

"That's my Hermione, mate," Ron informed him, his tone somewhat jealous. "We're part of the reinforcements your Hermione sent in to save your bloody arse. And from the look of it, it definitely needed saving."

"If I wasn't half out of my gob right now, I might take offense to that," Tom informed him.

"Lucky for me, then, isn't it?" he pointed out. "Now, if you'd like to get out of here in one piece, I'd start using that wand of yours for something besides an ornament."

"So, my other me is married to you?" said Hermione appreciatively. "Lucky girl."

"I heard that," Ron grumbled. "There'll be no living with her after this."

"It can be a challenge," Tom agreed with a grin as he stood up and started lobbing spells into the fray. There were so many people crowded into the hall it was difficult to tell who was who, especially since so many duplicates were running around.

But there was no mistaking the new figure that suddenly strode into view across the hall. Suddenly, the world grew silent, and every person other than Tom and Dolores cleared the area. Tom shook his head again, this time welcoming the pain to clear out some of the cobwebs.

"Hello, Riddle, so nice of you to still be alive," Dolores said with her sickly sweet smile.

"Happy to oblige," he answered, smirking at her in return.

The pair of them sized each other up for a moment or two, and then as if by some hidden cue, each lunged for the other, shouting curses. They gave each other no quarter, and soon they came very close together in the middle of the hallway, onlookers cheering them on.

"It seems you've got a fan club," Dolores sneered. "But how many of them would be cheering for you if they knew that you've not yet given up your ideas for overthrowing the Ministry?"

"You're wrong again, Dolores," he said. "I've adapted that plan to a new one. You see, my problem isn't with the Ministry necessarily, but rather with their stubborn refusal to change with the times-very much like your own. But now that I've realized what the problem really is, I've devised a better way to combat it. I intend to teach the Ministry the value of changing with the times."

"Ha! That'll never happen," Dolores said.

"Anything can happen, Dolores," Tom admonished her. "If a half-blood orphan without a penny to his name can convince a huge group of purebloods to follow his lead, then that same orphan should easily be able to convince the entire Wizarding world to accept the inevitability of change."

"You're a fool, Tom Riddle," Dolores told him. "You were a fool back then, and you're a fool now. Surely you must know there is always a division in any society. Those who rule, and those who do as they are told. Where's the change in that, hm? You'll see soon enough that my way is better."

"You're not going to live long enough to find out," he told her. Then he reared back and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

The full blast of his green light shot forth, but impacted her very powerful shield rather than the woman herself. Disgusted, Tom held the spell, twisting his wrist as he gave it more power. The shield surrounding Dolores began to weaken, until at last the spell made its way through, and the woman made a startled little squeak before she fell to the ground, dead.

Every one of the people in the room, be they Pureblood, Half-blood, or Muggleborn, just stood there staring at each other. After witnessing the display they'd just seen, there didn't seem to be a point to starting the battle up again.

Aurors stepped in from all sides and began to gather up the followers of the Goyles, and not one of them put up any resistance, not even Goyle himself. He glanced over at Dolores's body briefly and muttered, "Well, we had a good go, anyway."

Tom turned around and looked right at the two Harry's, Ron and his Hermione, and all of their people, and said imperiously, "Now then, where is my wife?"

"Come on, Tom, we'll lead the way," said one of the Harry's, which he assumed must be from the other dimension simply because he was leading the way. He followed along behind him, head held high, for he knew that today he had scored more than one victory, and he couldn't wait to tell his own Hermione all about it.


	33. epilogue

EPILOGUE

Tom paced back and forth nervously as he waited for someone to come out and announce the birth of his child. It seemed like hours had passed since they'd announced that Hermione was nearly ready to push, and he had chosen to wait outside because he was too nervous and didn't want to make things any harder on her than they already were.

"Don't worry, Tom," said Harry from his seat next to Ginny and the Ron from his own timeline. Tom smiled a bit as the memory of the other, much braver Ron Weasley popped into his mind. Had it really been over three months now since the day he'd defeated Dolores Goyle and saved the Ministry? It was hard to believe, but true nonetheless.

Of course, that was not to say that things had become perfect as a result. There were still many hold-outs who still wanted to stick to the old ways-Ministry officials as well as purebloods. The road ahead was a very long, windy path, but he would lead the way there as long as he was able.

"Mr. Riddle, sir," said a nervous looking young nurse as she stepped out to speak to him.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked with an urgent step or two in her direction.

"Your wife is fine, sir," she was quick to reassure him. "And so are your son and daughter."

"Both?" he exclaimed. "She went and had one of each? Well, you've got to hand it to her, Hermione sure knows how to settle an argument."

His companions shared a hearty laugh with him as they all went to greet the two newest Riddles of the Wizarding World.


End file.
